Pottering Around
by DarkFeyLady
Summary: Being Harry Potter is tough enough, but five years after the end of the wizarding war Harry needed a vacation, packing his bags and camping solo in New Zealand somehow he fell into Middle Earth, on the eve of Bilbo's party. This is a Lord of the Rings book/movie fusion crossed over with Harry Potter, please read, enjoy and review.
1. Failed Camping Trip

Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings crossover

Disclaimer-

Although not really needed 'cause if one looks at the quality of my writing to Tolkien or Rowling it doesn't really match up. I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. If I did, would I be writing this?

Italics are Harry's thoughts or songs and Bilbo's speech; one should be able to tell from the other.

Chapter One

Of Dragonscale Boots, Useless Legs, Wizards and Hobbits.

* * *

He coughed, great hacking coughs that shook his body until he threw up what little was in his stomach, thankfully he hadn't had lunch yet. After the dizzying bout of dry heaving Harry looked at his surroundings.

The gentle hills, green with the greenest spring grass with very little trees close by was very peaceful. It was a beautiful, bright, not-to-cold, not-to-warm, just-right day.

In fact the mar of the picturesque landscape could be Harry himself, in dark blue jeans, dragon scale boots, specially made, a classic long sleeved flanny and a guitar case on his back, not mention the stinking puddle of sick at his feet, he would an odd sight, in the middle of where ever he was.

Now noticing other things Harry saw what could be a dirt road, made by carts and wagons, only a few meters away, that the sky was clear with very little chance of rain and that down the left side of the hill he landed on there was a small thicket of trees and past that a village. The strange thing about the village is that it didn't seem all that far away from where he was but it just looked too small.

Harry finally noticed how quiet this place was and thought to himself.

'_How loud did I cough?'_

#_  
_

Gandalf the Grey, tall amongst men and elves, could see quite clearly, perched on his cart the man appearing from thin air. Gandalf watched as he was sick, loud enough for the Hobbiton hobbits and beyond to hear him.

Stopping the cart he watched the man gain his bearings and for few short minuets he seemed to decide on something, take a step, then fall forwards. Gandalf chuckled, then urge the horse and cart forward. This begged investigation.

#

'_Fantastic time to become freaking useless.'_

Harry grumbled and groaned and gingerly raised his head from the deceivingly hard ground. _'Owww…' _He rolled over, unhooking the guitar case, and congratulating himself on missing the puddle of vomit.

He looked up at the very blue sky, _'Cloud watching is… nice.'_ He mused, but boring, as there were not that many clouds to watch.

Harry heard soft clip-clops of horseshoes and humming of an unfamiliar tune. Pushing himself up into a sitting position Harry glumly prodded his legs. They felt numb and tingly and a bit like jelly, all together useless. He sighed and looked left and right for the humming person.

Staying patiently like that for five minuets he tried to rub feeling into his legs to no use. Slouching down, before straightening up Harry realized since he fell forward on to his face towards the road, rolling over and sitting up would put his back facing the road.

Sighing irritably Harry set about turning himself around.

#

Gandalf wasn't shocked to hear familiar and foreign words, quite obviously curses drifting down the hill. At least they were quieter and the hobbits would hear the stranger's creative cusses.

#

Harry felt heroically drained, turning himself around with useless legs, dodging the vomit, and popping into who knows where feeling like he had apperated and portkeyed at the same time and was waiting for a stranger that might help with the question of where in Merlin's saggy underpants he was.

Harry huffed as the humming turned into incomprehensible words. "Would you just hurry up?"

#

Gandalf not really feeling vindictive considered slowing down when he heard the stranger muttering. He decided against slowing down and continued to sing

_"The road goes ever on and on…"_

_"Down from door which it began…"_

#

_"The road goes ever on and on…"_

_"Down from door which it began…"_

"Yes" Harry murmured. "Words equal person, person equal help."

He dragged the guitar case over by the strap and opened it. Instead of a guitar the inside of the case was like the face of a chest of draws. Made in a pleasant smelling cedar wood the draws were all different sizes and had carved on each draw was a symbol. At the widest part of the case Harry's wand was in a built in holder, he took it and with it tapped a draw which began to glow softly. Harry closed the case and after a few seconds it dinged like a microwave. Opening the case again it was full of sweets and smells of sugar wafted out.

#

Gandalf heard the dinging of the case, and having heard nothing of the like he was greatly puzzled, however Gandalf could not smell the wafting sugar. But his horse could and upon smelling the sugary treat it decided to trot up the hill just a little bit faster, without telling the driver.

Harry listened as the singing stopped and was followed by a, "Whoa." In any case the clip clops had increased and were louder. Harry shrugged and continued to munch on his wagon wheel.

He paused eating, glared at his foot and softly. "Wiggle your damn foot."

#

Gandalf pondered over the time it actually took to reach the stranger, it was approaching nearly fifteen minutes just as he crested the hill.

Harry watched as the horse and cart finally approached his position. The man sitting on the cart was dressed in a worn grey robe and cloak, with matching grey scarf and hat. With long sliver grey hair Harry was struck with how Dumbledore-ish this man looked.

When Harry's strong green eyes met with the mans unwavering blue, his eyebrows were extremely bushy, Harry couldn't help but notice and as he and the stranger stared at each other Harry could imagine himself back in Dumbledore's office in his Hogwarts years.

Feeling the need to break the silence Harry said, "Sound travels around here." Thinking to himself. _'Stupid, stupid, stupid first thing to say to a random stranger_.'

"I am Gandalf the Grey." Gandalf said kindly, suddenly his piercing seemed to lessen. "Do you need some help?"

Harry blinked, once, twice, thrice. He knew that name from somewhere. "I'm Harry Potter, and I'd love some."

"Well then Mister Potter, what seems to be the problem?" Gandalf stepped off the cart and picked up a staff from the back of the cart.

"My legs aren't working." Harry said, watching him approach, him wand was just up his sleeve if the old man was not kindly.

Gandalf loomed over him. "Then how," He said. "Did you get all the way out here in the Shire?" Knowing full well how he appeared from thin air.

"Well I didn't walk here." Harry answered blithely. Gandalf lean on his staff and looked down on Harry, whom cursed the height of his maybe rescuer. _'Why is everyone taller than me?!' _

"I know, I saw your appearance, how pray tell did you manage that?"

Harry blew out loudly. "Honestly, I don't know I was happily camping; just about to have lunch and then 'pop' I am here." As Gandalf prodded his legs with the staff Harry continued. "It wasn't like last time, that was drunkenness and apperation and not following the three D's. Went some where for a month, everyone back home was freaking out, but I got these boots while there."

Harry waved his foot in the air, showing off the dragon scale before realizing he had control of his legs again. Gandalf was already climbing back onto the cart.

"Hey wait." Harry called scrambling to his feet. "Where are you going?"

Gandalf inspected him and then said. "To a party, and I mustn't be late, so climb up Mister Potter."

"Oh really thanks, call me Harry." He put the guitar case in the back or the cart. "Do I need to be careful with these…?"

"Fireworks, and just don't damage them." Gandalf sat at the far end of the cart and Harry at the other, at least two feet of space between. They set off in silence until Gandalf started singing.

"_The road goes ever on and on, _

_Down from door where it began, _

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_ And I must follow if I can, _

_Pursuing it with eager feet, _

_Until it joins some larger way _

_Where many paths and errands meet, _

_And whither then? I cannot say."_

It was catchy in the annoying way that is got stuck in your head and wouldn't quit until you sang it. But Harry was content to listen to Gandalf's low singing and take in the view.

He didn't notice Gandalf that had stopped singing and they had stopped in the middle of the road. Gandalf was exchanging words with a very little person, whom was the height of a ten year old but looked the age of a teenager. But he did notice when said little person jumped onto the cart and hugged Gandalf fondly.

After Gandalf and the mystery person detangled, the little person looked at Harry curiously. He was pale with pointy ears, dark hair and big, bright, blue eyes. "Who's this Gandalf?"

It was almost comical the size of this person to the height of Gandalf, and Harry didn't feel like the short guy anymore. "This is, Frodo, Mister Harry Potter, a traveler."

Frodo, Harry thought that the name was familiar but he knew that he had never met this Frodo before.

"Mister Potter, have you traveled with Gandalf long." Frodo sounded young and truly innocent.

Harry shook his head. "Not really, we met on the road, I needed some help."

"With what? And what an interesting accent." The reply was quick and Harry smiled internally at the inquisitive tone.

"I was just in a spot of trouble, Gandalf was handy and that's that really." Gandalf glanced over Frodo's head at Harry. "And my accent is from England where I grew up." Gandalf started and looked at Harry again.

Frodo frowned. "Where is England, I have never heard of it."

"Further away then what could be imaged possible and closer than anyone could think." Gandalf cut in. Frodo and Harry looked at him, Frodo in even more confusion and Harry in suspicion.

"And what do you mean by that Gandalf?" Frodo spoke up.

Gandalf looked at him then at Harry before answering. "I have been to England and her Earth, and the journey was very short getting there but I found no Middle-Earth on her maps and it is a world completely unlike ours Frodo, alas it would that too long to explain." He said as Frodo opened his mouth to ask another question. "But," Gandalf continued. "There is an old, and very active magic on Earth and if I am not mistaken Harry here is one of their magic users."

At Frodo's gaze Harry felt compelled to continue what Gandalf started. "Yeah, your right." He said.

Before he could go on Frodo blurted out. "You are a wizard?"

"Indeed." Harry raised and eyebrow at Frodo, his mouth ready to ask another question. "Magic is common in my world; schools of young children, with the talent are trained from a young age."

"_Frodo",_ Harry mused _'looks like a fish.' _With his mouth open form shock and wonder.

"But, how old are you?" Frodo asked. Harry cocked his head, not seeing the importance of the question. Frodo blushed and explained, "Gandalf here is a wizard, or so my uncle Bilbo says, and he also says that Gandalf hasn't changed in sixty years."

Harry though over this, _'He is defiantly over sixty then'_. "Frodo, children are trained from eleven and become adults, in the magical world at seventeen, I am twenty-five years old."

"So young?" Frodo gasped. "I am thirty-three today, and just only come of age."

"You don't look thirty-three." Harry said slightly shocked.

Suddenly calls came form high shrill voices of children running across the farms and along the dirt paths made by constant use.

"Gandalf!"

"It's Gandalf!"

Harry saw the cute little creatures running up behind the cart and he thought of home and the young child, his god-child, Teddy perhaps reading a book.

Three weeks and four days after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry went to visit Teddy and Andromeda.

#

She did not welcome him warmly her eyes were cold and red rimmed, but she allowed him into her house. Her home was warm and bright compared to the rainstorm that beat outside, she was like a harsh reminder of Bellatrix Lestrange, sharing familiar features when Harry looked at her.

"May I see Teddy?" He asked, her coldness was not uncommon, many thought that Harry deserved part of the blame for their children's deaths. Her face was pained for a moment before passing into a neutral look.

"He just went to sleep." Like her demeanor her voice was biting. "A cup of tea, Savior?" The last word was said mockingly, as if to ask, who did you save? Why didn't you save my daughter?

"Yes." He said numbly. "Please." She walked away abruptly and Harry followed her into a bright well kept kitchen. She ignored him, boiling the water the muggle way to prolong the silence. She slammed down his cup and sipped from hers as they sat across the kitchen table. Slowly he took his cup, pretty little thing it was patterned with thorny roses and almost took a sip of the scalding hot water.

"Stop." Andromeda said and set her cup down. "You shouldn't drink that." Her voice was less harsh but more lost, she looked past him. "I drugged it, with Veritaserum, I wanted to learn all your regrets and fears and hates and use them to cause you pain every day, to help me with my own, but I can't do it, don't drink from that cup. Please." Her last word a desperate plea.

Please what? Please leave? Please drink? Please don't?

Harry looked into her dark eyes he put the tea cup down, he whispered, the words clear but the volume of them stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry."

As quiet as they were Andromeda heard them and went still and silent. Harry took his cup in shaking hands, to the sink, his composure rapidly breaking, as he was about to leave the kitchen but she spoke behind him. "Is "I'm sorry" the best you have?"

He turned to look at her pale face the tears brimming in his eyes, "It's … I…. I can't say anything else, I'm sorry, please I am so sorry." His stuttering turned to hiccups the tears in his eyes ran freely down his face and Andromeda watched his holding her tea cup close.

Breathing heavily Harry tried to say 'that he should go' but the words turned into a hysterical sob and all he said was, "I'm sorry." Blubbering, and stuttering, hiccupping and sobbing he stood there repeating how so sorry he was.

"I'm sorry; I am sorry, sorry, so sorry." Over and over again like a broken record player.

What seemed hours later he was sitting on the cold tile of the kitchen floor, Andromeda sitting beside him, rubbing circles on his back, his sobs died a little but his hiccups continued. She forced him to look at her, she had begun to cry, the tear tracks fresh from her eyes, tears dripped from both their chins.

"Harry," She said and it sounded like it was form far away she called. "Harry, Harry It wasn't your fault," She sounded like she was choking. On her words? On her breath? "It isn't your fault they're dead, Harry, Harry." She was beginning shake with repressed sobs. "I forgive you." She said before dissolving into wild tears.

That day she and Harry held onto each other like a lifeline, like the other person was the only tether to life, they understood each other, their grief forged a bond between them and Andromeda welcomed Harry the next day and allowed him to see his god son.

#

The fizzing, bangs and pop of fireworks behind the cart jolted Harry out of his memories and delighted laughter of the children brought a quick smile to his face.

"Gandalf, I'm glad your back." Frodo said as he was about to leap off the cart.

"So am I dear boy." Gandalf said once Frodo was walking away. "So am I."

Harry and Gandalf sat in silence and Gandalf lead the horse and cart up a hill, form where they stopped one could see across the township and had a very good view of the road and a large clearing where bright tents, streamers and banners were being set in up a bustle of activity.

"Come along." Gandalf called he had stepped into a garden, a round green door and pleasant round windows dotted the hill side, and on the gate there was a sign which said.

"No Visitors.

Unless on party business."

"Gandalf," Harry said. "Are you sure who ever lives here is friendly?"

Gandalf knocked on the door ignoring Harry's comment. An annoyed voice shouted at them from inside. "NO THANKYOU! We don't want anymore visitors, well wishers or distant relations."

To which Gandalf replied. "And how about very old friends?" There was a moment then the green door opened to show an older hobbit looked harried but very happy.

"Gandalf? Oh Gandalf it is you." The hobbit ran forward to hug Gandalf and again Harry was struck with the height of hobbits.

"Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf had knelt to look at Bilbo properly. "You haven't changed a bit."

Harry felt a bit out of place wondering if he should wait by the cart, not wanting to intrude on the two very old friends. "Come on, Come in." Bilbo beckoned and Harry followed Gandalf into the house. It was warm and homely, made up of curved corridors and the walls and floors were a handsome polished wood and lovely creamy colour.

Harry needed to bend his head and neck as not tangle his self on the wrought iron chandelier and not bang his head on the archways, unlike Gandalf whom did both and had to hunch his shoulders over. There was clutter on the floors shoved to the walls, and several presents wrapped and half wrapped on and around a table.

Gandalf went into the next room, Bilbo chattered away, making tea, Harry wondered if Bilbo actually noticed him and when he would addressed. "I could make some sandwiches if you like?" Bilbo returned to the entrance hall, where Harry still stood feeling out of sorts. Bilbo's voice seemed to waver as Gandalf was no where to be seen.

"Just tea, thanks." Gandalf popped his head out of the kitchen. Bilbo made a small sound of acknowledgement before looking at Harry.

"Can I get you anything? Mister?" Bilbo led him in to the kitchen; Harry spotted an old map on worn parchment that had a red dragon flying over a mountain and strange rune markings on it as they walked.

"Harry Potter and maybe just something to nibble on, thanks." Harry said and was promtly passed a basket of scones, and rapidly provided with jam and cream. Happy to listen to Gandalf and Bilbo's conversation,

"So you are going to go through with your plan?" Gandalf started.

"Oh yes, yes, ah tea." Bilbo heaved the kettle up and poured the boiling water in to a tea strainer.

Gandalf continued. "Frodo expects something you know."

"Of course he does," Bilbo replied matter-of-factly. "He's a Baggins."

"Have you told him?"

"No, not yet, but I will." He said at Gandalf's disbelieving look. "I want to mountains again Gandalf, mountains, and then find a nice quiet place to finish my book."

"He would go with you," Gandalf stated. "…If you just asked him."

"I know, but I feel that Frodo is still in love with Shire." Bilbo sighed. Loud knocks disturbed the tranquility of the kitchen.

"Bilbo?" A woman's voice called. "Bilbo, I know you're in there!" She knocked again and Bilbo cautiously looked out of the window.

"It's the Sackville-Bagginess; they'll never forgive me for living so long." Bilbo hissed. "I'm not at home." Thankfully she gave up knocking and went away, Bilbo sighed with relief.

"I'm old Gandalf," He said wearily. "I might look not it but I feel it." Gandalf looked concerned at his little friend. "I need a holiday, a long one, I don't think I will return, I fact I intend not to." Bilbo seemed to shake off his pensive mood and suddenly the kitchen felt happier again.

"So Mister Potter," Bilbo turned to him. "Tell me about yourself."

Harry, Gandalf and Bilbo sat outside Bag End, the two natives smoked with long pipes and Bilbo made a smoke ring, Gandalf made a smoke ship that sailed through the ring before dispersing.

'_Showoff.' _Harry thought.

"Gandalf my friend, this will be a night to remember." Bilbo said.

#

The bright, firelight, exploding across the sky blotted out the stars, blinded unlucky few but was magnificent shower of colour, glittering like stars. Gandalf set off another firework, shooting pillars of whitish blue light over the party. Harry watched them, standing in the middle of the dancers awestruck.

A young hobbit poked his leg, when he turned another tickled under his knee, he bent his leg laughing. They attacked his other leg and he was brought to the ground laughing. He looked around for Frodo, or anyone to help him with the tickle attack. Spotting Frodo dancing in the strangest way, squatting up and down, and using his elbows like in the chicken dance, Harry called out wheezing.

"Frodo! Help!" And he collapsed in laughter. Frodo saw Harry on the ground laughing and shaking, being attack unfairly by children. Frodo laughed at his predicament, and ran to him, when the kids saw Frodo they shrilly giggle and ran off. Harry was on his feet in an instant.

"Which way did they go?" Frodo pointed and Harry ran after them calling out. "Wait 'till I catch you little heathens." Frodo laughed and shook his head, he saw Rosie, the bar maid at the Green Dragon dancing alone, and then Sam sitting alone drinking an ale. Running to Sam he grinned, plans in his head.

#

Harry shook his head, _'lost them'_ he laughed at the boldness of the children, finding himself away from the main party it was darker here, small explosions came form close by and the children's delighted squeals followed.

Harry heard the hissing of people trying to quiet but doing so loudly.

"…No, no, not that one, the big one, the big one." One voice hissed, another person seemed to rummaging through something, the other person said. "What's this case?"

Harry frowned. _'Gandalf's cart?'_

"I don't know Pip hurry…" Harry poked his head around the corner of a tent and saw two hobbits run off with a large red firework. _'Mischievous lot aren't they?' _He asked himself.

Wondering what was going to happen next Harry sat down and picked up a roll, starting to eat the soft and chewy roll there was a giant firework. The large tail of sparkles caught everyone's attention bright yellow, orange and glittering like a chest of jewels; it looked like it fizzed out then, from the firework, there was, what looked suspiciously like a dragon, it was glittering like the firework and it looked very real, as it made a pass over the party the hobbits ran into each other and fell in unison.

Frodo and Bilbo was next to Harry, whom fell over in the commotion, everyone was quiet as the dragon firework flew over the lake and then exploded into the largest firework show that night, gasping screams of awe and impressed sounds was the general noise when Harry got up.

He went over to the place were the firework took off from the ground was blackened and there was an unpleasant smell of burnt hair. Two hobbits lay on the ground talking, when they stood up Gandalf appeared behind them. Grasping their ears, like naughty children, he turned their heads, and said plaintively. "Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. I might have known."

Meriadoc and Peregrin were similar looking, young hobbit and their faces blacked by dirt and smoke, their hair stood up on end and they looked just like the Weasley twins after getting caught in a prank.

#

Harry read the map that the twins gave him watching Percy Weasley in the Gryffindor Dormitory's, waiting to give the signal; the tall twins were hunched over Percy's school bag, feverishly charming.

"Where's Percy." One asked quietly, Harry didn't look from the map and said.

"In his bed." Harry considered what they were doing to Percy, then thought that the twins would have done it anyway, besides Percy was being a prick. It was his bad luck that he left his bag in the common room.

"Hide, Ron's coming down." Harry hissed, and jumped over the couch, Fred and George ducked into the curtains. Harry stared into the fire trying to look natural. Ron sat next to him saying something that surprised all of them.

"What are you and the twins doing down here?" Harry twitched and Fred and George jumped from behind the curtains. "And why is Percy's bag open?"

Fred shushed him quickly. "Not so loud brother…" George continued,

"…We're doing nothing…"

"…That can't be undone…"

"Which is?" Ron interrupted. Harry and the twins shared a look.

"Ron, we are charming Percy's quills-"Harry was cut off.

"Charming Percy's what!" Percy thundered, quietly. The look on everyone's face was a mixture of fear, shock and hilarious disappointment. Harry wiped the map silently and hid it under the pillows.

"Harry, Ron go to bed." Percy ordered, Harry and Ron scuttled off and looked at the identical expressions on the twins faces. Once in their respective beds Harry snickered, which turned into full blown laughter.

"Shut up Harry." Ron groaned and threw a pillow at him.

#

"Speech! Speech." Everyone was sitting at the tables provided and the party was going into the darkest hours of night. The hobbits shouted and hooted. "Speech, speech." And clapped when Bilbo stepped on the stage then higher on to a barrel, his speech was as such.

"_My Dear Bagginses and Boffins, and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots."_

At each last name the families cheered loudly, stamping their feet and blowing their toy horns. One hobbit with his big and furry feet on the table shouted out. "Proudfeet."

"_Proudfoot."_ Bilbo repeated. _"And welcome to the Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one today!"_

Everyone started shouting and cheering, playing the musical instruments that had been gifted to them, Harry stared in shock. _'He defiantly does not look one hundred and eleven." _Bilbo called for quiet.

"_I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am," _Again there was a loud clamorous of slapping tables, toots of horns and a great many people including Harry shouting "Yes." and a few shouting "No." Bilbo called for quiet again.

"_I shall not keep you long; I have brought you here together for a Purpose." _Harry felt that something was up and he glanced at the impassively smoking Gandalf. Bilbo continued in the sudden hush.

"_Indeed, for three purposes. First off I am immensely fond of you all, that being said, __I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve._" There were some claps but most hobbits and Harry was trying to figure out what Bilbo actually said.

"_Secondly to celebrate my, or I should say our birthday." _Everyone back on familiar ground cheered and clapped again. _"For it is of course, Frodo, my heir and nephew, he comes of age today! Together we make one hundred and forty-four."_

"_Thirdly and finally," _Bilbo said. _"I wish to make an __**announcement**__."_ He said the last word so loudly that everyone sat up straight and Harry again felt the chill of foreboding.

_I regret to say that this is the end." _Harry noticed that Bilbo had taken something from his pocket, his hands were behind his back and he continued speaking. _"I am going now, I am leaving, Goodbye." _And in a blinding light he stepped down and vanished.

Harry looked around for him, he saw Frodo looking amused but a bit glum, the little hobbits pointing to where Bilbo disappeared and the older ones talking amongst themselves. But he didn't see Bilbo or Gandalf.

Harry stuck with Frodo for the rest of the night and was invited to stay the night. Walking up to Bag End Harry heard the last few words of a far off song reach him.

"…_Whither then? I cannot say."_

Frodo didn't hear it and pushed the door to Bag End open calling. "Bilbo? Bilbo?"

Harry watched the path, for a few more seconds then followed Frodo. Stepping inside, he saw two things, first Gandalf, sitting in front of a dying fire his posture like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. The other thing he saw was a little gold ring, in Frodo's palm.

"Bilbo's ring." Frodo said to himself. "So he's left?" He asked Gandalf who just stirred. That ring held Harry transfixed, then he heard a whisper, in the back of his mind, in a corner that had been forgotten '…_Harry….Potter…' _

Harry snapped up the meager defense of his mind and tore his eyes away form the little golden ring. _'What is that?'_ He shook his head to clear it from his mind.

"…He's left you Bag End." Gandalf was saying. "And all his possessions," He held outan envelope for the ring. Once Frodo dropped in and Gandalf sealed it Harry felt better. "The ring is yours now, keep it hidden." Gandalf stood up abruptly.

"I must go." He said, sweeping past Frodo to get his belongings.

"But you've only just arrived." Frodo protested. "And it is late."

"I need to talk to you Gandalf as well." Harry broke in.

Gandalf nodded. "Very well I shall set out in the morning."

#

'_I had the strangest dreams; Dumbledore was in it, and a bunch of midgets.' _Harry yawned and stretched, flipping the duvet off his chest.

"Ah, Harry." A voice said, Harry leaned up and saw Frodo standing at his feet. "Would you like some breakfast?" Harry nodded and thought to himself. _'Not a dream then.' _

Looking around Harry saw the guitar case, and his wand on top of it. Sitting up Harry took his wand and opened the case. Harry tapped a draw saying. "Be a bit quieter please."

After a few seconds the normally loud 'ding' was much softer, so soft Gandalf and Frodo in the kitchen couldn't hear it. Opening the case a shirt was folded neatly on top of a pile. Changing quickly Harry closed the case again and went into the kitchen where Frodo was cooking a Weasley style breakfast that would make Molly proud.

Gandalf was already sitting at the table sipping at a cup of tea, a plate of toast in front of him. Frodo was putting a pair of sausages on his plate to go with the eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast already piled on it. Harry was slightly irked at the very domestic feeling of the morning; it was like watching Dumbledore reading the paper in a very relaxed non-school setting.

Taking a plate and helping himself there was no speaking over the breakfast meal, busy with very nice meal that had been graciously served. After Harry had finished his breakfast, Gandalf edger to go readied the horse and cart while Harry said farewell to Frodo. He whispered to Frodo, when the little person hugged him. "I think I will have to see you again."

He stepped outside to give Gandalf and Frodo some privacy as they said goodbye to each other. The morning was not a lonely one, plenty of people were out tending to the fields or their gardens, and a great many were at the field where the birthday party took place, already taking down the banners and tents.

The air was extremely fresh, and clean from the smells that knew back home. Hit with a sudden urge of nostalgia he wondered what Hermione and Ron would be doing at this time, reading a book, playing chess, eating breakfast or maybe just lying in bed enjoying the new day.

"Come on." Gandalf brushed by him. Following him to the cart that waited in front of Bag End Harry waved at Frodo, whom was standing by the door. Frodo waved back, not in a particularly energetic way.

Putting his case in the back of the cart, which was almost empty of fireworks, Harry sat next to the impatient Gandalf. "And so we're off." Gandalf said and flicked the reins.

#

"Well, curses." Gandalf said huffily. The left side wheel had come loose, a few hours after leaving Hobbiton, and in a frantic moment Harry and Gandalf had fallen off the cart. Dusting himself off Harry stood up and slung his case over his shoulder.

The question, _'what now?' _on the tip of his tongue but at the stormy look on Gandalf's face he decided not to ask to inane question which usually asked at the right, or wrong, time would send Hermione over the edge.

Dangerous sometimes, but defiantly amusing.

Harry took his wand from the holster strapped to his forearm and held it loosely, wondering if he should just cast_ 'reparo'._ Gandalf was now unhooking the horse from the cart.

"Harry." He said. "I don't know if you have any experience with this but I recall a useful little charm that could help repair things." Gandalf nodded at the wheel. "If you could, it will save us some time."

Harry hesitated, but then thought _'just give it a go'. _He murmured under his breath, making the wand motions, _"Reparo." _But nothing happened. Gandalf sighed troublesomely and Harry felt like he should explain what he suspected.

"Sorry, but this isn't the first time this has happened." Harry tried the spell again non-verbally. "Here isn't the first place that isn't my world I've travelled to, long story short magic there was exceptionally active, and I didn't require word or wand to use magic."

Harry grunted noncommittally. "But I had to get used to their magic first, learn it."

Gandalf sighed again. "Would a demonstration help?" He asked taking up his staff.

"It did in the other place, just wait a second though." Harry opened and closed his case, this time retrieving a pair of spectacles form it.

"I don't use these much anymore." Harry cleaned his old glasses on his shirt. "Ever since having my eyes fixed and the glass in them is just normal glass now." When he looked at Gandalf with them on he continued. "They are enchanted though, to let the wearer see magic, another souvenir from the Mages College."

"Mages College?" Gandalf questioned before waving it away. "Seeing the magic will defiantly help you understand I suppose." He mused. "Are you ready?"

Harry saw the shifting magic bottled up in Gandalf and whatever he touched his magic seemed to leak out. Where his had held his staff the magic flowed into it, charging the staff in a way. "Yes." He nodded.

Gandalf stood still thinking of a harmless spell to cast, first he made the crystal on the top of the wooden staff shine, and Harry made a small noise and said. "That's bright. But really you're channeling the magic, try something external."

Gandalf thought for a bit then picked up a stone on the ground. What Harry saw was Gandalf shaped person with a void in his hand, all over the ground was voids, rocks and dead leafs, but everywhere else was glowing with the magic that was inside, not as brightly as Gandalf but in different colours.

Gandalf was a shifting-solid shiny silver, the trees was an earthly deep green, that looked like a skeleton of the tree and its branches, the ground beneath was a criss-crossing mass of magical veins, somewhat darker than everything but clearest to see.

Gandalf held the rock in his palm and saying three words that Harry could not understand the rock crumbled into dust. "Wow." Harry said. "That was cool." Taking off the glasses Harry rubbed his eyes but had a thought.

Putting them back on, he looked at his arm. The magic under his skin, magic flowed in the blood and on his arm the magic looked like his veins where filled with glowing silver, looked normal but more restrained than usual.

Gandalf waited patiently as Harry took off the glasses again and placed them back in the case, kicking it closed.

"Well." Gandalf said. "Did it help?" Harry frowned looking at his arm and wand again.

"Yes and no." Harry said before pointing his wand at the wheel again and forcefully saying. _"Reparo!'_

It was draining but had the desired effect, the wheel snapped in place but Harry was out of breath, feeling ready for another hobbit breakfast.

'_Don't need the glasses for this; it took to much magic to cast that spell.' _He thought as he sat of the cart again, opening the case and tapping the sweets draw he helped himself to the most sugary items available.

Feeling Gandalf's gaze on the case and the interesting magic Harry just said, "It's enchanted." And left it at that, not wanting to explain the piece of magic.

#

He and Gandalf turned onto another road, just as the sun was setting. "Will we camp?" Harry asked, breaking the long silence. Gandalf didn't answer for a moment but said briskly, not unkindly.

"I think not, if you are tired sleep in the back, I suspect you case has every thing you need in it." Harry snorted.

"Your guess is pretty much accurate." He slouched down as far as he could on the cart. "Why are you hurrying away from the Shire so quickly Gandalf, and why are bring me along?"

Gandalf waited until they had passed a group of hobbits, laughing and joking and dashing home. "I will drop you at the town of Bree and I wish to ask you a favor." He said, side stepping the questions.

"Misdirecting old man." Harry muttered. "And why would you trust me and my skills." The last word was almost lost in Harry's scornful tone.

"Because," Gandalf said with a bit more steel. "I have known plenty of people in my life time and you are one of the ones that will do the right thing." Harry rolled his eyes, saving people and doing the right thing, yep right up his alley.

"Besides I need help and you will need help getting home Mister Potter." Gandalf said serenely. Harry could have growled. _'Manipulative old man, never trust a Dumbledore look-a-like.' _Harry huffed crossing his arms, Gandalf was right, he'll need help, yet he couldn't help but feel like a 'but' was coming.

"What's the favor?" He said uneasily.

"Oh I just want you to keep an eye on Frodo for me, for the duration of my task." Damn him sounding so agreeable.

"How long will that be?" Harry snipped. Gandalf thought and hummed, before saying,

"As long as it takes, I can't be sure."

"Give me an estimate." Harry said dryly, not liking the sound of _"As long as it takes."_

Gandalf mumbled under his breath, saying thing Harry did not want to hear.

"…Bree to Rivendell… then to perhaps Gondor… need to find him…of course only if I'm right… visit Saruman… perhaps Radagast could have seen something…"

Harry tapped his foot impatiently.

Gandalf looked at him and Harry saw in his face a fierce concern in his face that Harry had seen before on Dumbledore, just after Lord Voldemort returned. "What's wrong?" He said gently.

"It's too early to tell, but I fear a return of something that should not be allowed to continue." Gandalf slumped and still the horse trotted on, the night getting darker by the moment.

"I think, Harry, my quest will take some time, but I swear I will help you get home." Harry leaned back heavy eyes watched the path ahead.

"Okay." Harry yawned. "I'll watch out for Frodo. But tomorrow I want answers; I won't do this without knowing your suspicions." Gandalf nodded in the dark.

Harry yawned again. "I might just sleep in the back."

#

Harry blinked at the sky, the clouds were streaked with light pink, golden sunlight dyed parts of the usually very white, very cotton candy looking cloud, and the sky around the particular cloud Harry was looking at was in the in between stage of day and night, a shifting, ever brightening blue.

'_Early dawn, then.' _He watched the moving sky, slightly puzzled by the bumpy ride his bed was. _'Had the weirdest… wait, wasn't a dream the first time.' _

Looking around he saw that the trees were all tall and friendly; branches freely rustling in the slight wind, beyond the small wall of trees was fields of deeply yellow wheat and rows of rich and dark tilled earth. Now sitting up Harry turned his head to look at Gandalf's backside, the wizard was humming again.

"Where," He shook his head, willing away the sleep. "Are we?"

Gandalf ceased humming and turned his head, "We are in the East Farthing of the Shire, and we will make for Buckland, where we can have some good food and proper rest." He said and continued humming.

Harry yawned and stretched, before looking around, the pressing urge of nature demanding attention. "We aren't going to turn off this road any time soon, are we?"

"No, no, not until we pass over the Brandywine Bridge, which is still a bit ahead, we passed through Frogmorton at most two hours ago." Gandalf said, Harry made a noise of acknowledgment despite not knowing what Gandalf was talking about.

"Are we likely to run into anyone?" He asked, keeping an eye open for a convenient glade.

"Just a few farmers, out and about early, some travelers may happen along." Gandalf puffed twice on a pipe Harry couldn't see. "Why do you as-"

Harry's sudden departure from the cart rocked the fireworks, the few that remained from the party, and cut off Gandalf's question. Gandalf watched the young man as he near ran to a closely grouped trees, which provided him with plenty of privacy.

Not fussed Gandalf turned his mind to the mystery of Harry. He had appeared out of nowhere and seemed good enough. Well not evil, was how Gandalf would categorize him for now, certainly he had a good feeling about Harry, which he hoped would not come to light as a bad decision.

Harry jogged a bit, the stretching of his legs helping dispel the last reaches of sleep. Walking beside Gandalf's cart Harry admired the serenity of the Shire. He saw hobbits in the distance already working on the fields.

The morning had already brightened considerably, the cloud purely white and the sky pale blue, Harry felt very at peace here, like he could spend long days just looking at the Shire.

"So." Harry said. "So…"

Gandalf huffed. "So what?"

"So… what's going on?" He asked. Gandalf slowed the cart, Harry jumped on to the cart, the horse flicked its ears.

"I believe Frodo may have come in to possession of a very dangerous artifact." Gandalf said. "And if it is and if it was found by the dark and returned to its maker a shadow would pass over this world like no other."

Harry blinked. "And why didn't you just take it from Frodo when we were there?" He said sardonically.

Gandalf bristled at Harry's 'are you an idiot' tone. "Because," He said testily. "If it is what I think it is and I don't know how to tell, the only way to destroy it would be casting it into Mount Doom in Mordor."

The volume of his voice had not changed but as he spoke he seemed to become angrier and angrier.

"And if it comes to that Mister Potter, we best all pray." Suddenly he sounded like a defeated old man, and crumpled into himself.

#

By midday Harry and Gandalf had made it to the Brandywine Bridge and turned down another lane. Harry saw a large hedge and behind a forest, large and dark, seeming to lean over the hedge as much as it could.

"We are now in Buckland, Mister Potter." Gandalf said as they passed through a gate. "That is the old forest, over there."

Harry watched it another unfriendly forest in his mind. "Reminds me of the Forbidden Forest, back home." He thought about the last time he was in the Forbidden Forest, he died that day.

"Forbidden?" Gandalf stopped the cart outside a hall. "Why?"

"Because, to keep the students out." Harry shrugged. The weather was nice, clear sky's, but a bit cold when the wind picked up. He followed Gandalf into the hall. It was very nice, the ceiling gave Harry less trouble than Gandalf, Harry at the grand total height of 5'6", below the average by three inches in the United Kingdom, as he was informed by Hermione once.

#

"Face it Harry." Ron said, long limbs splayed in the soft, sinking armchair. "You're short." Harry glared at him from the couch.

"Everyone is short to you Ron." He hissed at his 6'2" best friend. "Besides you don't count, being freakishly tall and everything." They were sitting in the common room supposed to be doing school work.

Hermione tsked, sitting at the study desk provided, pouring over her textbooks. "You guys should really be studying." She said airily, more out of habit then anything else. "With our OWL's coming up you should."

"Hermione," Harry whined, ignoring her advice. "Tell Ron I'm not short."

Hermione didn't look away from her books. "How tall are you Harry?" She said instead.

"I am 5 foot, 6." He glared at the lounging Ron, whom was snickering behind his hand.

"Sorry Harry, but you are short." She informed him. "You are at least 3 inches shorter than the national average." Harry spluttered before looking at his sniggering best bud.

"Did you know?" He asked, Hermione answered for Ron.

"He asked me about the average heights a few days ago." She crossed out a line. "Didn't he tell you?"

Harry sunk down into the cushy pillows. "I think he just did." He moaned.

#

A well dressed Hobbit, whom looked vaguely familiar greeted Gandalf and led him over to the fire for a cup of tea. Another young hobbit approached Harry shyly and wide eyed, a young female hobbit, a group of her friends stood behind her, staring at him.

"Hi." He said, laughing and squealing the girl ran off with her friends out a side door, Harry shrugged and joined Gandalf.

"What tea is it, it smells lovely." He butted himself into the conversation.

#

Night had fallen and Harry sat next to the cart watching the glittering stars. He made patterns but none were familiar. _'Seems astrology is coming in handy, or not.' _Without a telescope Harry couldn't see any familiar planets, nor was there any familiar constellation. _'Oh wait, I think I see the giant sauce pan.' _He thought to himself sarcastically.

Not noticing Gandalf behind him he continued watching the stars, lost in the twinkling patterns.

"What I enjoy most about the Shire, is the kindness and how peaceful it is here." Gandalf said.

"It is nice." Harry said distractedly. "It is very nice."

Gandalf said no more and Harry lay on his back stargazing, the cool breeze sighed over him, the distant chattering of people, the groans and creaking of the trees and the soft sounds of fly's buzzing faded as Harry followed the stars, they were all he could see, the clusters and dust.

#

Something was tickling his nose, half asleep he scratched it. Something was still tickling his nose, he waved his hand in front of his face, and he could hear quiet giggles.

Opening his eyes a fraction he saw a feather duster, brushing on his nose, and holding it was another young hobbit. In fact the same young hobbit that been running away from him whenever he was close.

"Boo." He said, she shrieked and ran away. Opening his eyes fully he admired the cloudy sky.

'_Did I sleep outside?' _He wondered as he saw that blanket, or really several hobbit sized ones had been laid over him, like patchwork but in the same green tones. _'What time is it?' _

Gandalf came up to him. "What did you do to frighten her so?" He said cheerfully.

"I see you had a good night." Harry glared at the jovial wizard. "Where did you sleep?"

"Oh, inside, with some hot of tea before bed, now get up, time for a quick breakfast then we make for Bree." Gandalf prodded him in the stomach with his staff which Harry swatted away.

"Where's my case, and where do I find breakfast?" Harry pushed himself off the ground. "Looks like rain, what time is it?" He didn't sleep very well, a stone he didn't notice last night made an impression on him over the night and people said he wasn't really a morning person anyway.

"Time for breakfast and your case is where you left it." Gandalf ignored Harry's glaring and continued obliviously. "No need to worry about your belongings in the Shire, being a Big Folk gives some protection from thieves, not that there are many."

Gandalf prattled on about the habits of hobbit as Harry tuned him out, as Gandalf said his case was in the back of the cart. _'Wish I thought about grabbing a pillow.' _He neatly folded up the blankets and tucked them under one arm and went into Brandybuck hall.

It smelt like food.

* * *

Ending on a happy note, makes me feel hungry now. Poor Harry, stuck in Middle-Earth, after what? See the hints I'm dropping, pretty easy to guess what I'm talking about.


	2. What Happens in Bree

Disclaimer-

Although not really needed 'cause if one looks at the quality of my writing to Tolkien or Rowling it doesn't really match up. I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. If I did, would I be writing this?

Italics are Harry's thoughts or songs/poems, and the _Thrumming_; one should be able to tell from the other.

Chapter Two

* * *

What Happens In Bree...?

It was nice here, in a room at the Prancing Pony, nice enough that Harry said 'sure' to Gandalf's abandonment.

Now he was an honoured guest of Butterbur's being a good friend of Gandalf, he could stay in the inn until, and in Gandalf's words, the 'threat' Gandalf made was 'forgotten' and again in Gandalf's words, 'that would not be very long.'

Then Gandalf rushed off, hastily said goodbye and reminded Harry of his promise, pressed a small bag of coins into his hands and gave Butterbur a stern look.

The room Harry sat in reminded him of his old bedroom at Privet Drive, it was about the same size, the walls were divided by panelling on the bottom third that matched the floors, and then was painted in a buttery cream paint all the way up to the ceiling.

It wasn't as cluttered as his old room in Privet Drive, the furniture that was reminiscent of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmead, wooden, solid and handcrafted.

On the bed was Harry's guitar case, open to show an acoustic guitar, just in the normal colours but the pattern around the sound hole was a Phoenix chasing its tail. Harry was sitting on the bed beside the case holding an elven dagger and an elven sword, given to him by Arlandra Non'ame, an Imperial woman with the mort amazing vocal skills, would be one way to describe her speciality.

#

This place was nice, it smelt nice, it looked nice, and if he listened it even sounded nice. He was lying on his back, above him, the stone roof was dancing, was he in a cave? There was natural light, a light breeze, he wasn't sure if he was in a cave. It wasn't very cave-y.

A brook bubbled somewhere behind his head and voices buzzed like bees, the grass underneath his hands was soft and springy, the dirt underneath loamy and damp. His head moved of its own accord, turning to see a black shape next to him.

He squinted, it wasn't very defined at all, blurring in and out of focus, suddenly it came to him. His trusty guitar case, full of everything he could need. He looked back up at the rock roof, was he in a cave?

A snuffing, saggy, wet thing licked, with a reddish pink tongue, his bare foot.

"Snuffles?" He croaked. "Sirius, Padfoot?" He flopped forward, hand reaching out to pet the dog, it was out of reach, the dog was getting further and further away, no was running to someone, no, two blurry someone's. One talked to another person, everything was getting clearer.

He could see the dog, black and shaggy, sitting patiently besides a woman in armour, it was shiny and made in a way that it accented her body, it also looked very heavy.

"Lydia." Another woman said. She walked past Harry, just glancing at him. She was shorter than Lydia, but felt like the leader, she wore leather scraps and underneath what looked like chain mail over cloth.

A bow, golden and wicked was strapped on her back with matching arrows, a sword of the same make, golden, thin, with an eagle head and wings decorating the hilt.

"Yes." The dog jumped around the second woman. _'Wait' _Harry thought. _'Is the dog 'Lydia' and the woman the voice?' _

Pondering this Harry fell back on to the soft ground. He could stay here forever. Subsequently he missed the tree moving as they slashed at it with a nasty looking dagger.

It got colder, and the ground was less comfortable, grumbling about how the rainbows just would not quit ruining his fun, never giving up the pots of gold. _'Hey, pots of gold.' _Harry swayed standing beside a convenient rock which he leaned on. _'It's a big metaphor... the pot of gold is heaven ,I reached the end of the rainbow, I'm in heaven, oh o I'm dead then, heaven...'_

Then some real weird shit happened. Harry swore later, when he was dragged out of the cave by Lydia, "The trees moved, they fucking moved man, girl, what are you anyway?"

Lydia threw him on the ground, the hard cold ground. "That not nice missy." He drawled. Pointing a threatening finger at her. At least at the one that on the left. The other one looked at his person in shock, the dog was licking his face as he wobbly pointed at all the Lydia's.

'_Lydia one on the left, Lydia two on the right, Lydia three in the middle, Lydia four just arrived.' _Harry pushed, or tried to push the dog off. "Get off Snuffles." He groaned.

"His name is Vigilance." The not Lydia, with the bow and arrows said. "Who are you?" She had funny accent, Harry said as much to her.

"Then you cannot hear yourself." She turned to Lydia. "Skooma? Do you think? Or maybe he was born this way."

"Talk this way, walk that way." Harry sang off key. "Blah, blah, blah..."

The archer lady pursed her lips, taking off her gauntlet she squatted down next to him. "Who are you?" She said again, slapping his wandering fingers.

"Owwie..." Harry whined. "No need to get physical. Physical, physical" He sang badly.

She clenched her fists, the dog barked quietly smelling something. "Get up." She said. Lydia unsheathed her sword and the not-nice lady slipped the bow off her back.

"Viggo," The not-nice one called the dog. Heaving Harry off the ground he spluttered, "My case, where's my case." Lydia shoved the guitar case in his arms then roughly hauled him after the other lady and the dog.

He stumbled and was dragged, babbling incoherently, slipping into song and generally being a nuisance.

"Arlandra," Lydia called. "It's no use trying to be quiet, he makes enough noise for all of us." She didn't drop him, and if she let go of Harry she seriously doubted whether he could stand anyway.

"Would carrying him be faster?" Arlandra hissed, the dog growled, Viggo, the dog, hackles were raised, snarling at an unseen menace. "Knock him out."

"Oh no, don't knock him out." Harry said bewildered. A dull 'Twang' sounded and an arrow hit the tree next to Arlandra.

"Too late." Lydia shouted, she pushed Harry behind a tree and snapped up her shield to deflect incoming arrows. Arlandra had already returned fire arrow hitting a bandit in the throat as he ran towards them, swords, one in each hand, raised.

One bandit, snuck around the main fight, Lydia with sword and shield, expertly dispatched the bandits, Arlandra shooting down the bandit archers and more rushing through the trees. Neither noticed the bandit scurry around the side.

As the bandit, dressed in furs and painted with grotesque symbols, prepared himself to launch at Arlandra, Harry said, his arm outstretched not realising that his wand wasn't in his hand.

"Incendio."

A gout of flame burst from his hand and hit the bandit in a horrific splash. The fire eating at his flesh, skin bubbling and burning, he dropped the dagger that grew red hot in his hands and screamed, clawing and clutching at his face, ripping off the furs and skins that began to graft and stick to his melting flesh.

His terrible screams, echoed in their ears and the remaining bandits broke and fled, glancing at their still alive but crispy fellow. Arlandra had jumped out of the fireballs path, she now lay on her back, an arrow knocked, pointing at Harry.

The fight only took five minutes, and it was quiet, except for the moans of the bandit.

"Lydia?" Arlandra called, the tall woman, Lydia, went over to the bandit, kneeling down next to him. Harry couldn't see what she was doing, but the bandit stopped moaning.

"Are you alright my lady?" Lydia stood in front and slightly to the side of Arlandra who hadn't moved from the forest floor.

"Yes, I'm not hurt. Are you?" Arlandra carefully got to her feet, watching Harry.

Harry was rubbing his hands vigorously, what he just did make his hands very tingly, like pins and needles.

"No," Lydia raised her dented shield and her sword. "What do we do with him?"

"Not kill him." The other said. "Where did Viggo go?" At his name the dog burst out of a bush, his muzzle bloody. "Good boy." She said. "Did, you get some nasty bandit, did you get some nasty bandit."

Harry wasn't sure he was imaging things. Harry decided to run away, he did his best, having regained leg control, but he only got a few steps away when Arlandra shouted, he fell forward, frozen, paralysed. Harry couldn't even control his bodily functions. It lasted a few seconds before fading.

Lydia roughly picked him up, "What do you want to do?" She asked. Harry was about to say, "Go pee." But Arlandra answered first.

"We will take him and the sap to Whiterun, we will question him after the high has passed." She said definitely, slipping the bow onto her back. "If you use your magic again," She said sternly to Harry. "Lydia is allowed to bind and gag you."

She then stalked off saying. "I'll find the horses the bandits won't be coming back here."

#

'_Arlandra and Lydia' _Harry remised, _'What a pair.' _Placing the sword on the bed he slipped the curved dagger into the dragonscale boot, and went downstairs to the common room.

It was loud, with drunken laughter and conversation. The air was hazy with smoke, and it smelled like ale, smoke, sweat and sausages. Barliman spotted him and ushered Harry to a small table next to the fireplace and out of the way, and placed a plate laden with potatoes and roast something in front of him.

Harry didn't notice what Barliman was doing, he was busy having a staring contest with person sitting at the table on the other side of the fireplace. He was tall, mysterious, hooded, smoking and dressed in a mix match of black, brown and green. Harry got the feeling that he could probably kill him with his bare hands without any trouble. Not a nice feeling.

"Who are you?" The voice came from behind, Harry's gut said trouble.

"No one, now go away, I'm having a staring contest." Harry didn't turn around, didn't look away, the mysterious guy raised an eyebrow.

"That is a staring contest that is going to get you killed." The unwelcome person said.

"If I win, or if I loose?" The mysterious guy's other eyebrow joined its fellow. "Who are you anyway?"

"Why should I tell a dead man?" The person behind him said. Harry didn't like the voice and didn't really want to turn around.

"Because I'm not dead, and if I keep staring at this guy, he won't kill me." Harry said s if that made perfect sense. The voice didn't reply.

Harry said to the mysterious guy. "Is he gone?"

"Yes." The mysterious guy said.

"Who was he?"

"Bill Ferny, trouble maker."

"If I win the staring contest, will you kill me?" Harry asked.

The mysterious guy cracked a small smile, making him look a bit more dangerous.

"You're not going to win."

The mysterious guys name was Strider, and Bill Ferny didn't come back to stir up trouble. Harry enjoyed his dinner, and then went back up stairs, he could almost hear Hermione calling him anti-social, but it had gotten even louder in the common room and the drinkers had started competitions and started singing bad songs about fishermen's wives.

It was quieter in his room, not all the noise was muted but the lyrics were lost in translation. Harry was sitting cross legged on the bed, the guitar was out of the case and lying next to the sword, the case was standing up, propped next to the bed.

"Interesting blade." Strider's unexpected voice said. Harry jumped.

"Jesus Christ, giving people heart attacks, is that what you do." He snapped.

Strider shrugged. "Among with other things." Completely ignoring Harry's spluttering he walked further into the room, plucking the sword form the bed, again ignoring Harry's protesting he unsheathed it. "Very light weight." He tested the tip on his thumb. "Very sharp, and very pretty."

The golden sword glowed in the candle light, the eagle head pommel had little onyx stones for the eyes. "Do you know how to use it?" Strider sheathed it and gently put it back on the bed.

"Do you do this all the time, harassing people after dinner, how did you get in here?" Harry said furiously.

"The door was unlocked-"Strider was cut off by the shocked brit.

"And is that an open invitation to come barging in I suppose." Harry growled.

"I would've picked the lock if wasn't open-"

"And that makes it all better." Harry snarled.

"You are very defensive." Strider said blandly. Harry could've rolled his eyes.

"Wondering about that are you, you are uninvited, though invitations don't mean much right now, in my room, blathering on about my sword-"

"So can you use it?" Strider cut him off.

"What does it matter, are you asking to duel in around about way." Harry was a little weirded out and still quite shocked at the unexpected visitor.

"No, just answer the question." Strider bit out.

"Not all that well, why are you asking?" Harry threw his arms up exasperated.

"Gandalf asked me to keep an eye on you." He said bluntly. Harry quickly simmered down.

"Isn't that touching," He muttered sarcastically. "Why would he do that?"

"Because you door is unlocked and he said please." Strider deadpanned.

"Well innit he a nice old man." Harry grumbled. "I'm keeping an eye on Frodo, your keeping an eye on me, who's keeping an eye on you?"

Strider strode to the door, he said. "I will wake you early, get some rest, and bring your sword, and other weapons you have." He exited swiftly. Harry scrambled after him.

"Hey how early is early and why bring my sword?" The ranger looked Harry up and down.

"Early is when I wake up, and for training." Strider went down the hall to another room and went in.

Harry shouted after him. "I didn't sign up for boot camp." The door clicked shut.

Retreated back into his room Harry made sure to lock the door.

"Damn random strangers." He sulked.

#

The dawn was pale, peacefully washing over the thatch and wooden houses, roosters called their mornings greeting and the animals in the pens started to make noise. The town of Bree came to sleepy start but didn't see any of this, as he was busy sleeping.

"Get up." Harry was roughly shaken, blearily opening his eyes the culprit was Strider. He didn't look any friendlier in the morning then he did last night.

"Nnn, too early." Harry rolled over, Strider pushed him out of bed.

"Get dressed, common room five minutes." He ordered. Yawning Harry did as ordered, and was tucking into a nice filling greasy breakfast downstairs within five minutes.

Strider then dragged him outside and then out of town, Harry waved sadly at Harry the Gate man, maybe the last person he would ever see again.

He followed the taller man tamely, not really awake enough to think about running away.

Stopping in a fairly large clearing, somewhere in the forest, Strider directed Harry to unsheathe his sword.

"Have you had any training?" He said, prowling around the clearing, Harry had to keep turning to face him.

"Not formally, I think, just practise bouts with Arlandra and some training from people we met travelling." Harry started to wake up, adrenalin beginning to pump through his veins, anticipating a fight.

"So very little training." Strider summed up, than lunged.

He swept his sword up and Harry jumped back, Strider stabbed and Harry dodged left. Strider swung and Harry ducked, continuously moving to dodge the sword. Strider drove him across the clearing, until Harry's back was against a tree.

Strider backed away. "The point of having a sword is to fight back." He said. "Dodging is well and good, but what if you can't dodge."

"He's right you know." Harry's Sword said. The eagle head moved, the black beady eyes watching Harry. "Now I might just be a sword, but I know how to be used." It had a slightly tinny voice but was obviously male.

"Oh, shut up." Harry said back to it. "If you know how's it done you do it."

"Fine." The Sword jerked his arm up and Harry swung at Strider. The confused ranger, parried, The Sword forced Harry forward, weaving his arm in complicated patterns. Strider was forced back under the flurry of blows, his surprise making him slow.

The Sword finally stopped, Harry was out of breath and his sword arm trembling. "That is how it is done." The Sword said, clicking its beak. Harry dropped The Sword, it looked at him hurt. "What is that for? Come on, in a battle you don't drop your sword."

Harry huffed. "My arm is numb and hand is tingling, thankyou very much."

Strider picked up The Sword, it looked at him and said scandalized. "Put me down. I'm not your sword." It bit his hand, Strider dropped The Sword.

"You're talking." He said. "The sword is talking." He looked at Harry. "How is it talking?"

"Well isn't he rude." The Sword said when Harry was picking it up. "I am The Sword, of course I talk, I'm not an it."

"Magic." Harry said.

"Too right magic," The Sword preened. "First of my kind actually."

"Only of your kind." Harry muttered. "I'm stuck on why you were made."

"Well why not?" The Sword said affronted. "I can help many an aspiring swordsman reach their greatness."

Harry snorted, Strider tried to speak. Harry said, "Great amount of swordsmen's you've been making, never letting any one else hold on for more than ten seconds."

"They all had the wrong hand shape, and terrible natural grips." The Sword said primly. "One at time my mother used to say."

"Mother?" Strider mouthed. " A Sword has a mother?"

"You don't have a mother." Harry sniggered at Striders bewilderment.

"Maker then." The Sword huffed.

"I knew her." Harry looked down at The Sword. "She actually said, "The more the merrier."

The Sword was quiet.

Strider breathed again. "You have a magical talking sword. Where did you get... him?"

Harry shrugged. "Wouldn't be able to tell you from here, not sure where here is."

"I was forged in Skyrim." The Sword piped up. "By Arlandra Noname, Dragonslayer, Dragonborn, Thane to Whiterun, Falkreath, Markarth and Riften, the Great, the Feared, the Beautiful." The Sword said proudly.

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "She was a real beauty. Lydia was nice too."

"Lydia, Lydia." The Sword bemoaned. "Sweet, strong Lydia, her sword, how I wished to be her sword, cared for so lovingly."

"I care for you." Harry held the sword at eye height.

"She would caress her sword, never let it be blood stained or dirty." The Sword sighed.

"That was once." Harry soothed.

The Sword ignored him. "And in battle, she and her sword were one, completely trusting and dependant, knowing each others limitations, an expert at sword fighting."

Feeling a bit bad that The Sword was stuck with him Harry said. "And we will be like Lydia and Scrywn, Sword." He said. "We just need to practise."

Strider took the opportunity. "And to be like Lydia and Scy-Scrywn," The unfamiliar name tripped on his tongue. "We will need less talking and more fighting."

Harry and The Sword snapped to attention.

"Sword, let me fight with Harry." Strider shakily addressed The Sword.

"As you wish, but I will help you teach Harry." The Sword shivered. "Lets get to it."

#

Harry and Strider sat at the corner table in the Prancing Pony, The Sword claiming fatigue demanded to be left in the rented room over dinner.

"Tell me about this Lydia and Arlandra." Strider said. "Your sword seems most approving of them."

"He approves of you too, or else he wouldn't have talked." Harry drank his cider deeply, enjoying the burning sensation that was just a touch weaker than Fire Whiskey. "Gave you a right shock, didn't he."

Strider looked at Harry frowning at the quietly laughing boy. He didn't answer but didn't deny that his heart stopped when The Sword moved in his hand.

"Now Arlandra, she is fantastic," Harry continued. "Prefers to sneak around and hit her enemies with an arrow from hundred yards away. No problem with that, I'm Mister Sneaky. She has breath taking eyes, silver grey and all that." Harry paused to drink some more cider. "Hailed as the best archer in Skyrim, stubborn about keeping that title as well."

"Where is this Skyrim?" Strider asked, remembering back to the training session in the morning.

"Hell if I know." Harry huffed. "Lydia showed me a map, didn't look anything like anywhere I had seen before. But I can say north, very up north."

Strider frowned he hadn't heard of anything like Skyrim in his travels, maybe it was across the sea?

"Is Skyrim where you are from?" He asked puzzled by what Harry was telling him.

"NO." Harry shouted. "No, no, no." He continued quieter, "I'm from England. Very far away, need some help to get back."

"How far is England?" Another strange word gave Strider pause. Harry rapidly said.

"If this is Never-Never land, it would be the second star on the right and straight on 'till morning, to get back to England." Baffling Strider with those directions Harry drank the rest of his cider.

"Well I'm going to turn in, since it was only day one of Strider's one-man Boot Camp." Harry took his plate to Barliman and vanished up the stairs.

"What a strange person." Strider murmured.

#

"Smoking kills." Harry waved away the smoke from Striders pipe. "Don't you know?"

Strider puffed the Longbottom Leaf, deliberately blowing a cloud of smoke in to Harry's face. Coughing and waving it away Harry wondered. _'Three days and I've driven him to smoke in the morning, what will happen on day six?'_

"Well good morning to you too." Harry coughed, Strider was so doing this on purpose.

After breakfast they went to the clearing, Strider attacked without warning, pushing Harry as fast he could go. After two minutes The Sword called for a stop. "Harry, Harry, relax your wrist, you're going to break it."

Harry readjusted his grip, rolling his wrist. "Better, better, your arm has the power in it, your wrist is the conduit, don't break it."

At The Sword's word Strider attacked again, and again, and again. Harry was ducking between Striders swings, tying to close the gap. The Sword was about a fingers length shorter than Striders two handed long-sword, snapping up The Sword to parry Strider's they locked blades.

Strider being taller and stronger he slowly pushed down on Harry's exhausted arms.

"Okay, okay, okay, how to get of this, alright Harry, I'm taking control." The sword forced Harry to bear back on Strider. "When I stop, jump and re-engage." The Sword said. "Three, two, one, now!"

Harry sprang backwards and darted around Striders side, on the offensive Harry didn't realise that The Sword had returned control, just doing what his head told him.

Strider a bit puffed and Harry panting like a dog ended the fight with Strider removing The Sword with a fancy trick.

"Good job." The Sword praised. "I'll make a swordsman out of you yet." Unable to speak Harry nodded gasping. Taking The Sword and sheathing it he sat down trembling. Strider disappeared for a minuet before returning with a water skin. Gasping out thanks Harry drank the cool water, relishing at the fresh taste of it.

"You are good, and the changes between you and Sword are becoming smooth, you just need to work on your strength, which will help your stamina." Strider said. "But you are small, and fighting a bigger opponent like me relying on strength won't work. Your dodging, Harry, keep dodging, just don't tire yourself out though."

He started stringing his bow. "Have you used a bow before?" Harry eyes widened remembering all the failed times he tried to use a bow, Arlandra eventually forbid him from touching one. The Sword started laughing.

"If you want to see something pathetic, by all means give him the bow, and I hope you don't like it." The Sword waffled, shaking in its sheath as if it were shaking in laughter.

"Don't give me a bow, no way." Harry crossed his arms stoutly. "Not a chance bucko." He glared at the laughing Sword. Strider thought how odd it would be to an observer for the past few day watching The Sword and Harry interact.

"Why?" He said, managing to control the impulse to roll his eyes at the childish noise The Sword made.

"Because the best archer in Skyrim couldn't teach me, do you really think you can?" Harry looked at the bow like it was a particularly ugly and poisonous snake. Strider this time rolled his eyes.

"Maybe she's just not a good teacher." He suggested. Harry shook his head, shaggy black hair flicking into his eyes.

"Eh, oww, no, we went to the best teachers, stayed there a day then I was kicked out of the class."

Harry was so embarrassed when he had to leave the junior archery class in Solitude for Aspiring Hunters: Aged Four to Six. Even more embarrassed then when he was signed up for the class by Arlandra, and Lydia's teasing was too much. He joined the Bards College after that debacle.

"I was kicked out of a class for five year olds Strider, don't let me near that bow."

Joining the Bards College was a whole new world of ridicule, with the smartarses coming up with limericks on the spot about his failing archery.

_Hurry and come, watch Mister Potter,_

_Whose skill in archery is a right shocker._

_When he aims at a tree,_

_Stand back, you see,_

_He's missed and might of gotcha._

That was Viarmo's ditty when he entered the college the first time. Harry wasn't impressed.

Drawing himself out of the memory of Viarmo's greeting he glared at the bow. It wasn't as nice as the wickedly curved Elven one Arlandra was fond of, but Harry knew enough about bows to tell that Striders one would defiantly do the job.

'_I wouldn't break that bow,' _He thought despondently. _'It is more likely to hurt me.' _

_#_

"He broke the bow." The teacher, a stout redguard woman, said stubbornly. "He broke a bow made for children. He is hopeless, his stance has not gotten any better in a month and when he manages to actually fire an arrow," She pointed a dull iron arrow at Harry. "Pray to the Eight that it hits the target and not anyone behind him."

Lydia bit her lip, looking down at Viggo, petting the wardog's head. Arlandra stood; her arms crossed looking very much like an angry parent. Harry was looking down at the stone pavement between his feet, ear hot and bright as cherries.

"Surely you would not give up a challenge?" Arlandra cajoled the teacher, whom shook her head sternly.

"No, no and no he is not merely a challenge, he is dangerous, he's a disaster. The arrow once hit him, thank goodness it was blunt!" She looked like she could continue but at Arlandra's warning glance. Calming down she continued tightly. "I cannot teach Mister Potter archery, and I doubt he can learn, he isn't a natural, and the aim you assured me he has as disappeared."

Turning to Harry, seeing him slightly hunched over in embarrassment she softened. "Harry." She said. "Go inside say goodbye, you are welcome to watch but I cannot let you handle another bow." She patted his shoulder lightly and retreated into the large indoor practise area.

Arlandra shook her head, Lydia stifled a laugh Harry crossed his arms and muttered petulantly.

"I feel like I failed Professor McGonagall in first year again."

#

Strider sighed, Harry looked as if he was far away in a memory, he heeded Harry's and The Swords warning, teaching Harry to use a bow when he wasn't really enthused about learning it would be like teaching a stone wall.

Taking his sword he nudged Harry with his foot. "If you can't learn archery I can at least help you with swordsmanship, get up." He lightly sprang into the middle of the clearing.

"But my arms are jelly." Harry whined, grudgingly standing up, using The Sword as a prop up.

"We'll fix that." Strider ginned, three days of talking swords, whining foreigners and non-stop battles to get out bed early, he was going to enjoy this.

#

Harry soaked, in the hot, steamy bathtub, that Barliman had thoughtfully asked Nob to remember to tell him to draw for Mister Potter, it was soothing his poor battered muscles from yet another action packed day of Striders Boot Camp, or Daily Torture, as Harry had taken to calling it.

The man was a machine, or at least Harry was pure flesh and blood and Strider was defiantly an alien. The ringing, the clashing, squeals and rigorous pounding of the blades rung in his ears. Harry didn't envy The Sword, being the one to take all the sharp abuse, not that he didn't dish his own out, Harry sank deeper in the tub.

"Take care not to drown." The Sword chirped as Harry's nose hovered just above the steaming water. It lay on the bed, claiming that standing up after Boot Camp was too much, often complaining of boredom. "Then where will I be?"

"Probably in Striders pack." Harry rose slightly to speak, eyes closed. "Now shut up you pervert."

"That isn't fair, I can't see anything at this angle." The eagle head huffed. "Not that I see much at all, all that swinging about gets dizzying after a while, and since I'm too flashy to be shown around outside, I see only two places, in this room and the clearing."

"You get dizzy?" Harry sloshed upward getting more interested in the conversation.

Warming up to the topic The Sword chattered on. "Oh sure, I mean, wouldn't you? With all that nasty clashing and smashing, sometimes I feel relived to enter into someone's flesh just for a change."

Turning it's head to look beadily at Harry one eyed, the human looked a touch nauseated but still too comfortable to care. "All the noises seem dulled when I'm in someone's belly, not that any stabbing and cutting is going on nowadays. Not that I care for all the messy business and blood, but that is just part of being a sword I guess."

Harry yawned and sleepily said. "Would you like to see Bree or just the little part of it when Strider takes us to the clearing?"

The Sword nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, yes, indeed, indeed, If you could devise a way, thankyou, thankyou." Harry reckoned that if The Sword could it might weep from gladness and thank him on its knees.

"I might have to wrap you up in rags, make everything but your eyes hidden." Harry tiredly continued. "Don't want thieves harassing us." His chin was just resting on the bathwater, the steam rushing down his nose and warming his head, throat, and lungs.

"Ha, a thief would be no problem." The Sword boasted, clicking its beak as it had taken to do. "Let them try."

#

Harry had a bad feeling, a b-a-d feeling. It was pestering him all through dinner, eating like a teenage Ron each bite was like another little weight on his troubled stomach, but Harry wasn't feeling bad, he had a bad feeling.

Did Strider have a bad feeling? He didn't know, he didn't ask. But when he returned to his room upstairs the bad feeling intensified, especially when The Sword was not on the bed where he left it that night.

'_Did he fricking learn to fly, or just grow legs.' _Harry wailed internally.

"Harry? Harry, someone tried to steal me!" The Swords loud and shrill voice came, thankfully, from the other side of the bed where it lay on the floor. "They picked me up and I bit them, and they dropped me and ran away."

The Sword sounded very frightened, warbling and tripping over his words. Harry closed the door and gently picked up the hysterical sword.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, did you see-" Harry hushed The Sword who cut him off wailing.

"No, no, it happened so fast." Holding The Sword carefully Harry brought the hilt up to his face, The Sword's little golden eagle beak had a little bit of drying blood, dull red against The Sword's gleaming glow.

"How long ago did it happen?" Harry wiped away a little of the blood on The Swords face, whom was moving his head and quivering in distress.

"Not sure, not sure, my sense of time is awful, It was after you left for dinner." The eagle head turned to look at Harry directly as he cleaned the poor sword. "But not long after, I hadn't gotten lonely yet."

Harry's heart tugged for The Sword, the poor thing was left alone, absolutely defenceless, well not absolutely but unable to help itself when in trouble.

"It's alright, it's alright." He soothed. "I'll keep you with me from now on, and we got to find the thief." He sheathed The Sword and buckled it onto the belt that belonged with him.

"Yeah, yeah, some payback." The Sword sounded a bit like his old self. "We'll show him that my beak isn't the only thing that is sharp enough to hurt." Now The Sword sounded vicious.

Wrapping The Swords hilt with scraps of cloth, making sure to leave the onyx eyes uncovered. "Maybe scare him a little Sword, not maim him" Harry chuckled. "I'm glad you bit his hand, just keep a look out for a bleeding hand."

"How are we going to scare him?" The Sword sounded a little muffled under the cloth and looking down the movement of the cloth was surreal.

"I'm thinking you're a talking sword, and that might just do it." Harry crossed the room, pausing before opening the door. "Was it Strider? Who picked you up?"

The Sword shook his head. "No, the hand was unexperienced with blades, held me all wrong." The Sword shivered.

Harry nodded, and went outside. The men down below were singing and chanting like they did every night, Harry reckoned that Strider might have an idea who would steal a sword in town, and he knew that Strider would still be downstairs smoking his pipeweed.

#

Harry prowled the dark streets, Strider said it could just be a passing thief but he did see Bill Ferny hanging about his door before the evening meal. The Sword hadn't made a sound when they were in the common room, not that Harry could have heard him over the din of the singing and shouting.

The streets were almost deserted, Harry, the homeless and a few other drunken wanderers were the only people out on the streets at this time of night. He asked a few people where did Bill Ferny live, and was directed to the far side of town.

Bill Ferny lived in a small house with a small one horse stable, near the town wall. It was a small non-descript shack, with a thatched roof and made of wood.

"Well what do we do?" The Sword was now fully uncovered and the golden hilt reflected the window light.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, never done this before." He rifled though his pockets, searching for two little elusive- "These might help." He said grandly, and quietly showing The Sword a pair of lockpicks. Dropping into a crouch and retreating into the shadows Harry quietly told the Sword his plan.

"We go in there in the middle of the night, wake him up, and accuse him of tying to steal you, when he denies you will tell him that you saw him steal you." He thought for a moment. "Depending on what happens next we leave and if he confronts us we claim ignorance, and that he was dreaming, that good enough for you?"

The Sword sighed. "Not enough blood shed, but okay, lets give him a fright."

Luck was with Harry and the Sword for not twenty, impatient, minutes later the light in Bill Ferny's house was doused. Waiting another ten minutes Harry slowly creeped towards the door. First testing it to see if it was unlocked, no luck, Harry cautiously put his lockpick and dagger in to the door.

Waiting again, the sounds of drunken wastrels passed, and the wind blew every so often smashing tree branches together Harry carefully picked the lock and caught the door before it swung open to a vicious gust of wind.

Sneaking inside Harry took a lighted out of his pocket, hushing Swords hissed "What's that?" He lit it. By the flickering firelight Harry closed the window shutters and lit a well used candle.

Able to see a little better Harry spotted something that defiantly did not belong to Bill Ferny, his guitar. A chill came over Harry, passed into a burning spot in the deep of his gut then a calm cool simmer. Faster now Harry picked up his guitar, his preicous, his fathers guitar, and inspectiedd it for damage. He said to The Sword, but mostly himself.

"I know exactly how to freak this guy out."

#

Bill Ferny awoke to soft, strumming music, peacefully dragging him back to reality. The music was a constant _thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum, _in a deep and deeper cord. Now awake Bill Ferny did not like the sound of that _thrum-thrum._

Opening his eyes then closing them in fright, counting to three he opened them again. A light, a greenish, hazy, foggy light hovered over his bed, hovered over everything. _Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum._

In the pale green fog, pulsated a light, and feeling himself getting up to investigate Bill Ferny gathered his courage. _Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum. _Following the pulsing light he wandered through his small house into the kitchen area, sitting in one chair with his feet on the table was the stranger.

The strange stranger that arrived four nights ago and immediately fell in with a Ranger. In the strangers hands was the instrument Bill had taken from the strangers room, and there stood, stabbed into the table, next to the flickering candle light was the golden sword that bit him. _Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum._

That infernal thrumming came from the instrument that Bill Ferny had stolen. As the stranger stared, his green eyes glowing, into Bill Ferny's dark, and frightened brown eyes, the stranger's hands moved rhythmically up and down the instrument. _Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum._

The pale green mist that made the stranger's eyes eerily glow rose from the instrument, it hovered before joining the ever thickening green in his house.

"Thief." The stranger said. _Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum, thief-thief, thief-thief._

"I'm not a thief." Blatantly lying Bill Ferny quailed at the magic this stranger possessed.

"Don't lie Bill." The stranger was strumming the instrument, the infernal mist rose and pressed closer and closer to Bill. The eagle head moved and Bill felt faint watching it.

"You tried to take my Sword." Harry said, enjoying the barely concealed panic on Bill Ferny's face. Strumming his guitar slightly faster he changed the movement of the mist. He wasn't really using magic, as the guitar was previously enchanted, but Bill Ferny didn't know that.

The mist took a bluey hue, and started shifting as if there were people moving about in Bill Ferny's house. The Sword began to speak. "So you think you can take me, try again." He snapped his beak. "I'll bite your finger off."

Bill Ferny gave a silent cry of shock, his eyes rolled and he fell backwards. Harry stopped playing at the meaty thud of flesh hitting floor. The mist cleared rapidly, dispersing into nothingness, Bill Ferny lay on his back unconscious and he didn't wake when Harry prodded him.

Dragging Bill Ferny onto his bed Harry retrieved The Sword from the table, feeling the notch that was left.

"Can't be helped." He muttered, stealing out of Bill Ferny's house Harry returned to the Prancing Pony, no one seeing him climbing skilfully up the wall and slipping in through the window.

Bill Ferny woke up, afraid to open his eyes, when he didn't hear any music he chanced with one eye, the only light came in through his window opening the other he realised his head hurt. Although this could be explained by all the drinking he did last night.

That would also explain the strange dream he had about the stranger. Stumbling through his house to start a fire to cook breakfast Bill ran his hand across the table, he felt a notch. A deep cut into the wood. Staring at it he gobbled, mouth opening and closing in confused fury.

The events of last night, the sword talking and moving the mist that caused him to be dizzy and faint, all real?

He cried out in shock and sat, trembling.

#

Harry, The Sword and Strider sparred in the clearing, not getting as much sleep made Harry a bit slow, but The Sword made up for him, forcing his arm to block Strider's sword. The Sword jarred harshly in his hand and blisters had been forming had popped painfully. Strider with exaggerated slowness moved as if to gut Harry.

Just as slow Harry pushed his sword to the side, ideally he would deflect Strider's sword, send the enemy off balance and leave them open to a counter-attack. They ran through the moving speeding up at random intervals. Strider being a bastard would shake things up every so often, putting a different maneuver into the drill and forcing Harry to adapt.

Then on day nine of Strider's Daily Torture Boot camp he began to spring surprise attacks.

Leaping onto Harry after disappearing, dagger on his throat, saying. "Dead."

Tripping Harry up. "Dead."

Disarming Harry and pointing his own sword at him. "Dead." Then The Sword bit him.

Breaking into Harry's room in the Prancing Pony. "Dead."

"Dead." Hitting Harry with a stone, the equivalent of an arrow.

Catching Harry in a trap. "Dead."

On day thirteen of Boot camp and the fourth day of 'surprise attacks' Harry snapped.

Strider had pinned him to the ground again, which wasn't really fair since the Ranger was bigger and stronger, saying annoyingly "Dead."

Standing strongly he felt all the bruises on his body burn, all the cuts and scrapes stung, unconsciously he slipped his wand into his left hand and The Sword in his right, as Strider readied himself for sparring Harry raised his wand and cried

"_Caligamenti!" _ A dark, deep fog coated the clearing, erupting from his wand like a waterfall, it did what Harry intended it for, to blind Strider, the fog was so strong. But he couldn't control it, the spell kept growing, the unnatural fog escaped the trees and slowly misted nearer and nearer to the walls of Bree. Then the fog receded, and was blown away with the breeze.

"Strider." The Sword called frantically. "Strider where are you? I can't see you, Strider."

"Harry, Sword?" He walked slowly through the fog foot touching the wooden stick Harry used to conjure the fog, he picked it up, the polished piece of wood was non-descript, slightly warm to the touch. "Harry, where are you?"

He didn't answer. "Strider, help us." The Sword shrieked, the fog dispersed enough for Strider to see a suspiciously Harry shape body on the ground, and The Sword wiggling and jerking around in distress.

"Oh dear." Strider said, he flipped Harry onto his back and checked if he was breathing. Head near his heart he could the quick jumpy heartbeat and steadying breaths. After failing to wake him up Strider lifted him, ignoring The Swords squawk when he it back into its sheath, half dragging Harry back to Bree he absently answered The Swords shrill questions about what was going on.

"I can't say." The Sword was quiet as some panicked travellers ran past.

"Can't or won't." The Sword hissed.

"I was warned by Gandalf that Harry could use magic, and that it might be emotionally tied." Strider growled at Harry the Gateman, striding into Bree like the king he may or may not be.

"He said I needed to help Harry trigger it." Another group of travellers scurried past, The Sword silently listened fascinated. Almost at the Prancing Pony Strider stopped to gather his thoughts. "In my experience anger and frustration is a very good motivator, but neither Gandalf nor I could ever guess that it would result in this."

Without waiting Strider burst into Prancing Pony calling for Barliman Butterbur to boil some water, taking Harry upstairs and picked the lock expertly, he lay Harry down on the bed, taking his belt and boots off he studied the limp stranger.

"What will we do?" The Sword sounded close to crying, as it looked at Strider trustingly.

Strider taking the bowls or boiling and cold water, and started washing the mud off Harry's face. "We wait for Harry to wake up." He sighed.

* * *

Ending on a serious note, not quite was I was aiming for but, not every part of the story can be light hearted, it got more serious after the Bill Ferny thing.

I am not positive with where this could go in terms of relationships but I won't write to set people up if it isn't canonical.

And sorry about the double post thing, had to make a few corrections.


	3. How Magic works

Disclaimer-

Although not really needed 'cause if one looks at the quality of my writing to Tolkien or Rowling it doesn't really match up. I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. If I did, would I be writing this?

Italics are Harry's thoughts or songs/poems, one should be able to tell from the other.

I thought I should warn you guys just a swear word thrown in here and an acronym.

Chapter Three

The way magic works...

* * *

It smelt funny, not unpleasantly funny, just extra sweet.

Harry's nose, someone once said, was stronger than even his will, actually to think about it, the person who said that was breathed deeply the sweetness filling his lungs, and then his chest was rocked with spasms.

'COUGH, COUGH!'

#

If The Sword could have jumped, it would have, straight off the table. Its watchful vigil over Harry's rest was broken by Harry when he suddenly and loudly coughed. Strider did jump out of his chair, startled out of his light doze, leaping to Harry's side. Helping the confused wizard sit up Strider almost couldn't hear himself over The Swords excited babble.

"Oh, he's awake, he's awake, finally Harry, Harry, you're awake..." Harry waved his hand at The Sword coughing too hard to tell him to shut up. "...We've been so worried Harry, never do it again, whatever you did, oh but you're awake now and I shouldn't talk about that, there's plenty of time..."

Strider passed Harry a jug of water as The Sword rambled on, for some time. Strider finding himself impatient now that Harry had woken, just to question him on what he tried to do. Harry breathed heavily through his nose, sniffing the sweet scent.

Before Strider could get a word in, and when The Sword paused to take a breath it didn't need Harry asked. "What is that smell?"

The Sword tripped over its words, explaining that the smell was _Athelas _or Kingsfoil, a weed that Strider used it to reduce his fever and soothe his throat. Harry nodded and his brow furrowed, scratching his chin he was surprised to feel a roughness. At his puzzled look The Sword jumped in before Strider.

"You grew a beard while sleeping, it looks silly, it must be the first thing you take care of, doesn't suit you at all." Strider privately agreed, Harry's face wasn't suited to stubble

Harry felt the full extent of his stubble, the unfamiliar bristles of hair roughly dragged on his palm. Thinking as fast as he could, though he had just woken up, and was not a morning person. "Sword, Strider, how long was I asleep?"

Poor Strider could not get a word in edgewise as the Sword noisily cried out. "A week, you've been asleep for a week, longest week ever." The Sword wailed very, very upset.

"Too true." Strider murmured, his sensitive ears ringing from The Swords change in pitch.

Harry gazed at The Sword, just realizing how young it really was. "I'm sorry, won't do it again." He turned to look at Strider.

"So..." He whistled through his teeth. "So..." He watched the impassive exterior of the Ranger before glancing around the room. "Sup?" He shifted a little uncomfortably. "No, you a wizard Harry?" Harry tried, Strider shrugged.

"Gandalf said you were a wizard." He calmly explained. "He also said that you were having trouble."

"Yeah." Harry said glumly. "I'm having performance problems." Snickering at his own joke, the reference flew right over Striders head. Seeing his clueless look Harry stopped laughing bashfully. "Sorry, twenty first century humour."

Shaking his head Strider drew from an inside pocket of his jacket Harry's wand. "What is this?" He asked, spinning in his fingers, noticing how Harry focussed on the length of wood.

"It's a magic wand." Harry said blandly. "Can I have it back?" He held out a hand and it disappeared with a flick of Strider's fingers. Strider brushed off Harry's gawk, and shortly answered. "No."

"Why not?" Harry challenged. His hands beginning to itch, rubbing them together he tried to look menacing enough to scare Strider into giving his wand back, feeling naked without it safely strapped to his forearm.

Strider moved to the end of Harry's bed and successfully stared Harry into looking away. "Because, you were in a coma for a week, running a fever that only broke a few hours ago, and you seem to be fine."

Harry shrugged and wagged his head. "So? Magic, I'm quick healer, always have been." Sighing at the unrelenting look on Striders face Harry tried another tactic.

"Look Gandalf told you about my magic." He started. "So he also told you about my trouble casting a simple spell." Strider nodded seeing where Harry was going. "So I need to practice, and I'll need my wand to practice with."

Strider clucked. "Well, your last piece of magic wasn't very successful; Gandalf did ask me to help you." He waited for a moment. "And that is what I intend, are you going to try more magic, and get yourself killed." He was blunt, but being straightforward with Harry, he noticed, made him slightly less resistant.

"No, I have learned my lesson, no more fog." Harry growled, how dare he treat him like he couldn't take care of himself, it was annoying but nice.

"But you do have a point." Strider dropped the wand on the bed. "You need to practice, but I can't help you with magic."

#

Later that evening, after Barliman brought up Harry's dinner, Strider and Harry talked.

"Dead. All the time you said that," Harry waved his fork around wildly. "Driving me crazy."

"Ahh yes, a friend of mine would do just that when we trained together, motivated me to best him." Strider lounged in the armchair that wasn't there a week ago.

Harry stared at it. "Where did that come from?" He pointed at the chair with his fork.

"Barliman graciously let me move it here on the second night." Strider started packing Longbottom leaf into his pipe.

Harry snarked is his best Yoda voice. "End up dying from lung cancer you will."

Pointing the pipe at Harry Strider said. "What is this Lung cancer and what have you against smoking."

"Oh that is a can of worms, first a friend of mine after his twin died started smoking, got addicted and he got sick, so sick that magic had a hard time healing him." Harry remembered Mrs Weasley's tears when they all stood outside Fred's room in Saint Mungo's. "But smoking sir is well... smoking, back home it's done with tobacco, but cancer, I have a story or to tell…"

Harry delved into the topic of tobacco and Lung Cancer, slightly nauseating Strider with the graphic descriptions of mouth and foot cancer, The Sword stayed uncharacteristically quiet. As it got later into the night Harry found himself opening up about his Hogwarts years.

"We start school at eleven, well learning to use magic, muggle children, start younger, but I was raised in a muggle family, so I went to school. Now magic school, it was called Hogwarts, said to the best in the world but an awful lot of nasty stuff happened there…"

"…First, Second, third doesn't really count, but fourth definitely, fifth, sixth years do count, and my seventh year was just FUBAR, I was almost killed by same person, except for third year. You know every year was crappy, I survived because of sheer dumb luck." Harry yawned, settling back into the pillows. "Kinda funny when I look back now, and fucking scary." He yawned again.

Strider took his cue to leave, glancing thoughtfully at Harry when he left. _'I might have underestimated Harry.'_

#

Harry was almost snoring when Strider left, but soon grumbling when he had to leave the nice toasty bed to put out the candles. When he doused the one next to The Sword he commented. "You were quiet."

In the half light he saw the eagle head turn to look at him, his reflection in the black polished eyes. The Sword didn't speak until Harry was settling back in the bed. "I was so scared, that you weren't going wake up Harry." The Swords voice usually fast and joyful was slow and measured, as if he was pondering what he was saying. "I thought you might die."

Harry got out of the bed again and picked The Sword up. "I'm sorry, my frustration overcame me Sword, and I didn't die, so don't think about it." The golden face looked so forlorn that Harry did the strangest thing, he hugged the poor Sword. "I think you are being dramatic." He whispered. "Don't worry about it."

#

Harry had gone downstairs for breakfast, The Sword on his waist, loudly protesting when Harry left without him. "But what if you get angry again and do something stupid." The Sword shouted. "I can't help you if I'm not near you!" Rolling his eyes Harry acquiesced to The Swords demands.

Once downstairs Barliman ushered him to Strider's table, the first time, Harry would've bet, Barliman ever directed a person to the untrusted Ranger. Harry's breakfast was a feast, the cook using his return from the 'long sleep' as an excuse to throw a party.

Harry was the hot topic on the grapevine and overheard some interesting rumors.

"…He is a half-elf, born in the south, hundreds of years ago…" A young woman was told by a pimply adolescent.

A big bury bloke in a circle of friends "… A wizard I'd bet, if he weren't so young…"

"…Come off it, a prince? Have you seen him eat..." A not quite regular patron was told by an elderly woman, not a patron at all.

"… I wonder, could he be Dúnedain… Strider's son? No really, but who is the mother?..." A popular one that made many rounds in different social circles.

"… She died during childbirth, Strider didn't know… no wonder he took to the lad to quickly… I say, if the boy was taller, though by the look of him he still has some growing to do, and looked a bit, well wilder, he could pass as the Ranger's son…"

The loud voice of Bill Ferny rose above the din. "You're all ridiculous, he is not of the Rangers or Men, or Elves, he is something else, something dangerous, I tell you, that fog a week ago, it was not natural, he caused it, and I swear he caused it." Not knowing Bill Ferny hit the nail on the head he was shouted out of the Prancing Pony, disbelieving cries.

One rumor that stuck was that Harry was the Ranger's Apprentice, and was a distant relative from a long forgotten cousin.

In the days of Harry's recovery he was left alone, the reputation the rumors gave him.

"…He fought a dragon, and still suffers those wounds today…" A fairly drunk man said.

His drinking companion, who was not quite so inebriated and happened to be a close confident of the cook said firmly.

"The young Ranger," As some had taken to calling Harry. "Was attacked, his parents killed, right in front of him, at a young age too, and in a rage avenged his parents." He drank deeply, teasing the eager audience. Wiping the foam from his bearded upper lip he continued. "Now after he did that the boy was wounded, and then you see he met Strider, the boy was deathly ill, and Strider, healed him up and left."

"Just like that?" A wide eyed and curious hobbit blurted out holding his hobbit sized beer half-way to his mouth.

The man nodded gravely. "Aye, since then the lad had been looking for the Ranger, and found him he did." The crowd hemmed and hawed. Harry clenched a fist under the table, the rumor so close to the truth.

"Well Mister Know-it-all," A barmaid said. "How do you know these things? If he were really what you say he wouldn't share his life story, especially with you Hoggy." He drank deeply during the shouting and hooting. His pig like face twisting, thus the nickname Hog or affectionately Hoggy. Hoggy happened to be Bree's loudest gossiper and had a well earned reputation as the worst secret keeper.

Harry muttered under his breath.

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts"_

In the quick jaunty tune he used in first year, unfortunately he was over heard and soon the pub was singing _Hogwarts, _to all different tunes. Hoggy taking it as an offence, another nickname, stayed quiet for the rest of the night.

The rumour, people agreed unanimously, that Harry found Strider after getting revenge for his parent's deaths, was just too far-fetched, and went back to speculating Harry's origins.

Harry relaxed, Hoggy's rumour, would pass as all the others had but it was one that hit closest to home.

#

Harry sat cross legged in the clearing Strider and him had been training in, instructing Strider on magic.

"Magic here is weird," Harry flicked his wand, half heartedly saying _'Filpendo'. _Frowning at the stick that hadn't moved at all he continued. "And my magic is just different, not in harmony with this magic."

Harry snorted. "I could meditate on this, find the balance and centre of magic here and see if that works." Strider already knew that Harry was too impatient to meditate and said as much.

"Yeah you're right about that, but magic in my world and this works on the same principle. When Gandalf showed me a quick piece of magic he turned a rock into dust." Harry tossed a rock up and down. "But he didn't crush it or make it explode, and you could both in my world, which is easy but what he did was a year five spell, he just deactivated the little bonds that kept the rock together and it like a first year spell for him."

"What do you mean by a bond?" Strider asked.

Harry looked a bit sheepish. "Science, never really worked hard in science, but I'm talking about atoms and elements and the little bonds that hold everything together."

Strider shook his head. "I have no idea what you are saying."

"I suppose you need prior knowledge of electricity and stuff." Harry threw the rock away. "I bet if Hermione was here she would figure it out in a snap." He clicked his fingers to emphasise his point.

"And who is Herm-moanie? Strider tried twisted his tongue around the strange name.

"Herm-moanie..." Harry snickered. "If she heard that one...Her name is Hermione, say it with me." Harry laughed each time Strider's accent destroyed Hermione's name.

"Don't worry." He said. "There was this guy that called her, Herm-own-ninny, or something like that. Really pissed Ron off."

Strider abandoned her name for a safer word. "Ron, who's Ron."

Harry sighed, his thoughts lingering on a different Weasley. "Ronald Billus Weasley, my best friend." Harry sighed again. "He has a bunch of older brothers and one little sister, Ginny."

Strider was not much for romantic gossip, being a very serious person most of the time, but something about Harry made him want to goof off. He scented that Harry was appreciative of Ron's younger sister.

"And this little sister?" He saw in Harry's face that he definitely liked the little sister.

"She's a red-headed angel, who's dating someone else." Strider didn't bother asking what dating was, surely another thing Harry couldn't explain with making even more complicated.

"Some pimply twit that I bet wanks off in the middle of the night."Harry snarled, refusing to even think about his own escapades in the showers and his right hand, he was never a pimply twit after all.

After that admission the silence in the clearing was broken after ten seconds by The Sword, asking innocently. "What's wanking?"

Harry and Strider laughed loudly, drowning out The Swords repeated questions, refusing to answer. Hooting and shrieking Harry was rolling around on the ground and Striders shoulders shook unrestrained.

"Well Strider," Harry said after calming down. "It's been a month, and the last thing I would think of doing would be talking about girls but I want to travel, so I'm taking a holiday and going into the Shire, just need to send a letter first, so who's the postie?"

Strider thought for a moment. "Barry was the postman, but he quit, stress he said, and not that there is many letters going around." He stood up and stretched. "You should ask Barliman, he ought to know."

#

Harry stepped out Bree, and shouldered the cumbersome knapsack. _'Not many letters my arse'_. He mentioned to Barliman that he had some business in the Shire, and would've like to sent a letter. Barliman said that after the 'Fog', many hobbits wanted to catch up with relatives, but unfortunately couldn't make the journey. Letters were the only alternative, and there was a great rush to send them. Harry was volunteered by Barliman to be the postman, much to Harry's annoyance. "I just need a black and white cat and I'll be postman pat." He had grumbled but agreed to take the letters.

Harry walked down the East-West Road, admiring the green way. Everyone thought it was strange that he left Bree with out any supplies, but the rumours worked in Harry's favour people saying that if he were Strider's apprentice he would know how to hunt and gather edible plants so no one really gave him any grief.

Except for Strider.

The man was a mother-hen, worrying like Molly Weasley when her brood left the nest. "You're not going have enough food, because you're taking none." The man crossed his arms, tapping his foot, blocking the exit from the Prancing Pony.

Harry tapped his case that was slung across his back. "Not to worry I have everything I'll need."

"And if you get lost, how will you get the Shire?" Strider wasn't budging and Barliman hovered in the background, The Sword was on his wais, still wrapped in the rags, Harry promised to take them off when they couldn't see Bree.

"I follow the road east Strider. I've travelled this road before, had no troubles." He matched Striders pose but didn't tap his foot, instead his fingers rhythmically tapped his forearms. _One, two, three, four- one, two, three, four- one, two, three, four._

"You had someone with you, now all you have is a Sword." He hissed. The Sword squawked quietly, and Harry said.

"So I can defend myself if I run into trouble." The man's arguments were pretty weak and Harry was getting a little frustrated. Strider just was the hardest headed, idiotic, confusing person Harry had met and talked to in Middle-Earth. "Strider you are being stupid, I will fine, you won't need to worry."

Strider unceremoniously stomped out the pub, as Harry picked up the bag of letters from Barliman. "Won't you stay for something to eat, Mister Potter?" He asked. "The cook will be happy to give up some bread and cheese."

"No, I'm ready to go, but if the cook would I'll take some for dinner." Barliman reached behind the counter and picked up a bundle. A large bulky bundle, saying Gandalf and Strider would not be pleased if he did run out of food.

Sitting on a nice flat rock Harry did think that taking this fresh food with him was a good idea. He was a few hours outside Bree leaving a bit past lunch time and judging by the sun it was mid-evening, Bree was a small lump in the distance, with smoke from chimneys just being visible.

The road very early on twisted right and Harry could see The Barrow Downs a place Strider warned him not to go in to. "They lead straight into the Old Forest and the trees there are unfriendly to strangers, and the barrows themselves hold hidden dangers stick to the road." He said before Harry left.

"You could just come with me." Harry offered. "If you're so worried."

"I'm not worried." Strider snapped. "Just be careful, I expect you back within two weeks."

Harry didn't wish to brave the sloping Barrow Downs; from his rock they gave him a right unpleasant feeling, like when he met Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express.

Taking The Sword from his back he unwrapped the long, gleaming, pale gold sword that looked like fire in the dying sunlight. He had all ready put the bag of letters into the guitar case and The Sword directed him on how to strap him on to his back for easy access.

They started off again, at a steady pace that ate up the miles, but before he knew it the sun was resting on the horizon behind him, casting long shadows.

"Turn around harry." The Sword said, "Look at the sunset."

The sky was like a painting, the sun a large orb, and the clouds surrounding were dyed light pink, the yellow and red stained the sky like wine spilling, the last vestiges of the bright blue sky being hidden in the spectacular lights. In the east the deep rich blue was like an ink Harry saw in Diagon Alley.

"It's very impressive." Harry commented, The Sword and Harry hadn't met many people travelling and could freely speak to each other.

Watching the sunset for a few more moments before setting off Harry was reminded of another sunset.

#

The bridge was broken and cracked, slippery with ice and snow, Harry faced west, the harsh wind biting into him but he didn't care, the dusk was enchanting, the sun seemed pale against the snow and all the more brighter, the clear sky, was slowly darkening and people down in the ruined city of Winterhold were putting lanterns on the outside of their houses.

He, Lydia, and Arlandra were guests of the College of Winterhold; the journey up from Windhelm was cold and bitter, and the attack when they passed Stillborn Cave lingered on his mind. Vampires and their Thralls, sneaking behind them, just as the sun completely disappeared, had surprised them with deadly consequence.

Killing enough to get away, Harry, Lydia and Arlandra galloped to Whistling Mine, where they found food and shelter, agreeing to go back in the day time to take care of the menace. Before they retired Lydia asked the terrible question.

"Where is Vigilance?"

The next day they rode back, fearful and tired, aching form the hard riding and feeling the cold leak into their hearts and numbing their hands. They returned to the Cave, the bodies of the fallen dragged into the cave but one black snaggy dog lay prone and frozen in the stony snow.

Tearfully they took Viggo's body and buried him, placing a log with an arrow shot into it over his mound. Riding ahead Lydia took Viggo's death hardest, Arlandra explained.

"I loved him, but Lydia had a bond with the beast. Closer than I have ever seen." She dropped back, the three kept in each others sight, making Winterhold by ten thirty that night.

The next day passed in a daze, and now Harry stood on the bridge to the College, the newest member, watching the dusk. He couldn't see Dawnstar or Solitude, but he knew that they were there, somewhere in the blinding white.

#

The stars hadn't changed, and it was Harry's first night alone, in a sense. He picked his chosen spot clean of stones and lit a fire in a short walk away from the road, to combat the growing chill. It was winter, Harry reminded himself, or close enough, being near the end of October.

Although Harry wasn't unprepared for the unexpected heat of Christchurch's spring time it was still quite a shock to his system, breaking into a profuse sweat. This autumn weather reminded him of England the crisp days and cool nights, eating some of the dried meat Barliman had provided him with Harry lay down near the fire, staring into it, hoping that this camping trip wouldn't go wrong.

#

Birds chirped, and chirruped, tweeted and tooted and all the general noise woke Harry up a bit after dawn. Shadows of the night faded into brightness as Harry rolled into action. Dawn was a chilly business, his breath fogging, breakfast was eggs and toast, in his case the modern convenience of a small gas stove and frying pan, complete with a set of cooking utensils.

Yawning Harry could happily imagine himself in the great outdoors of New Zealand, just waking up for another day of hiking and sunbathing and doing who cares what, just another day of holidaying.

Harry was hit with a sudden craving, chocolate; he wanted a chocolate cake, in a frigging mug.

He also wanted his magic back, but neither was going to happen anytime soon.

Stowing away the twenty-first century stuff Harry reluctantly stood up, looking up and down the road. No one, no noise but the birds. No airplanes, or cars, or even the babbling of a creek. Dare he say it, Harry was lonely.

#

Buckland was busy, much busier than when Harry was there a month ago. He had covered The Sword up again and removed the sack of letters from the case. Lots of little hobbits ran about, some recognizing Harry from Bilbo's party openly and others shyly approaching.

Harry had never been popular with the first years, his reputation and sometimes fearsome temper made sure the younger children in the Gryffindor Tower gave him a wide berth, especially when he caught Fred and George, in fifth year telling tales to the first years.

#

"And then he didn't come back the next day, Harry dealt with Professor Lockhart, you can now find him in Mungo's." The firsties were gathered in a tight circle around the twins sitting loftily on the loveseat taking turns continuing the tale.

"Lockhart, sad story, a babbling wreak, he now's in the physc-ward, can't remember much." One said, looking at his identical brother, scratching his nose.

"Now third year," The other started. "The dementors were after Harry, all the time."

"Don't dementors go after bad guys?" One very small eleven year old said. "Harry Potter isn't bad, is he?"

The twins looked at each other in false shock. "Harry? Bad?" Looking at the eleven year old they said gravely. "Don't you read the news? Or listen to Umbridge, Filch, anyone in the Daily Prophet, Harry is the worst, after..." They let the suspense build.

And build...

...

...

"Who? Who? Oh tell us!" A young blonde girl with pigtails squealed.

"Yes, do tell." Harry said behind them all, a fearsome scowl gracing his face.

The first years all screamed and ran away, climbing over the sofa and bumping into each other.

Fred and George laughed loudly, and Harry's face darkened.

#

'_I must not tell lies' _stung on his hand, finally faded to a white scar. Harry met a nice hobbit, his name was Merry or something like that, but he remembered him from the party.

"Hey, you set off that firework." Harry exclaimed.

Merry grinned tiredly. "Yeah, me and Pip, who are you?"

"I'm Harry" Harry said. "The new postman."

Merry showed him to the postman whom took the letters with great hesitance, saying something about all those bloody letters and Bilbo Baggins. Harry followed Merry, around Buckland; he mostly stayed by the Brandywine, one of the few hobbits close to the river. Throwing stones into the river Merry said. "You were at Bilbo's party, with Gandalf right?"

"That's right." Harry's stone plopped into the river quietly. Merry skipped his three times before the water claimed it.

"What's it like? Travelling with him?" Merry said after a moment.

"With who, Gandalf?" Harry snorted unkindly. "Very quiet and always rushing." The walk from Bree took Harry four days.

"I would like to visit Frodo, but dropping in unannounced might be a bit rude." Harry changed to subject when the silence lengthened. He didn't like the quiet, being so close to nasty trees just made it creepier somehow.

"Your right about that and folks up at Bag End might think you're dragging him away for an adventure." Merry told him about Bilbo's running off form Bag End after Gandalf and Dwarfs had visited unexpectedly. "And travelling alone is just a shame, I'd like to visit Frodo as well, how about we go together?"

Harry threw another stone. "Sure why not." He shrugged. "Why are the trees so nasty back there, not feeling any mutual love between Hobbits and tree folk."

"Not sure why," Merry half shrugged."They very queer but the stories about them, I wouldn't put any stock in them." At Harry's intrigued face he continued, happy to have an interested audience. "Monsters and the like, goblins and wolves as such. Never seen or heard anything like that going on but I tell you Mr Potter, those trees are very much alive, and active. I swear when at night they talk to each other, and move without wind."

Merry broke out laughing. "But it is harmless on this side of the Hedge, now come, taste some of Buckland's best, drive away the trees from your mind."

And with that Merry was dragging Harry to Brandybuck Hall, for the finest beers and ales.

#

His head was pounding, his tongue was fuzzy and his legs buzzed. Cracking open eyes he found that he was in a dark room, quiet voices were reached his ears and the flicker of firelight licked at the corner of his eyes. Yawning he recalled the last night. _'I got drunk, smashingly drunk.'_

He groaned and rolled on to his side, crawling on hand and foot towards the door outside, he hoped, and the cherry voice of Merry pierced his skull. "Good morning Harry, sleep well?" Harry looked towards the general direction of Merry's voice and shushed him pathetically.

"Be quieter," He rasped. "What time is it?"

"Oh, it's about a quarter past ten." Merry said, thankfully quieter. "Where are you going?"He walked by Harry's crawling form.

"Outside." The door was opened for him, the cool fresh air drifted in and woke him from his daze. "Fresh air." Standing after a moment he held his head in hands. "My head hurts." He moaned.

"I'm sure it would, you drank like a fish Harry last night." Merry stood next to him. "I thought you'd never stop and gave us all a right shock when you made those flowers appear, how'd you do that anyway?"

"Flowers?" Harry's hangover forgotten as swooped down to Merry's height. "Did I say anything, was I using anything?"

"Easy there." Merry stepped back waving in front of his face. "Smell like a brewery you do."

Harry checked his forearm for his wand, it wasn't there. "Did you see me holding a stick." He said. "About this long, polished, holly." Merry's face scrunched up as he thought, and Harry tried to remember more than vague noises and faces from last night.

"Yeah, yeah, about the same time you made those flowers." He nodded. "How did you do that?"

"No matter where did I put that stick." Harry frantically hissed.

"Oh it's in your belt." Harry pulled it out of his jean pocket, the memory of Mad-Eye's words coming back, something about buttocks being blown off. Strapping it back to his forearm he looked around. Every hobbit looked away from him and Merry, the mother's were herding the children away form him, and a fellow wearing a hat with a feather in it was not looking at him all that friendly like.

Confused he turned back to Merry. "What happened last night?"

"I was wondering when you'd notice them." Merry waved his hand around, Harry wondered, _'Am I public enemy number one again?'_

"Not quite an enemy Harry." Merry said. "But people are a bit suspicious of you."

"What for?" Harry said outraged.

"You were going on about a war, saying you were a wizard and to prove it you made these flowers pop out of nowhere and that you had a talking sword-"

Harry cut him off. "Flowers, I made flowers." The dull pounding in his head was centred at his temples, his stomach rolled sickly, his hangover came back with a vengance.

"Yes, yes, nice ones too." Merry tugged Harry back inside, enticing him with promises of food and a hangover cure.

"See over there," Merry pointed, in the corner three tall white lilies stood in a pail of water. "Made them, are you really a wizard?" Harry was thrown by that question, staring at the flowers he wondered how in merlins backside did he manage that?

"Kinda." He answered distracted, striding over to the lilies and picking one up.

"Kinda?" Merry hurried after him. "What do you when like that?"

"I can use magic, but not very well at the moment." Harry inspected the lily in his hand. It was a perfect specimen, and smelt like in had just been cut from the fields.

"Well magic was working for you last night defiantly." Merry broke into his thoughts. "What's it like being a wizard?"

Harry snapped to attention. "Normal I suppose." He put the lily back into the bucket. "I've never known anything else."

Merry happily helped Harry the rest of the morning, when midday rolled around he said. "I believe we should get going Harry, off to Hobbiton."

Cheerful and as happy as his namesake Merry trotted off with more energy than Harry could muster, travelling with Merry across the Shire was very chatty. Though Merry was prone to think a long while on something Harry had said. They made very good time and reached Whitfurrows by supper time.

Over dinner, Harry had three helpings, the hobbit sized plates giving him smaller portions, Merry had four and they talked a bit about his magic.

"What you have told me about you magic." Merry said, thinking over the conversations they had when walking. "Is that to use it you have to force it and that is dangerous, or your drunk and then it's easy."

Harry sipped the small tankard of ale, it wasn't as nice as Buckland's finest but swirled around his mouth, tasting it, and it went down like a cheap beer but was stronger in flavor. "Seems so, but I can't be drunk all the time." He waved the tankard to empathize. "But if is Buckland's finest I might an exception."

Merry made a face and said. "You could drink us dry."

"I would never mean to, I just learned how to hold my liquor in Skyrim." Harry drank the rest of the tankard in one gulp, setting it back on the table.

"Is that where you are from?" Merry said after a while, when they were waiting from dessert. "Skyrim, you talked about Skyrim and Angle-land? Last night."

Harry winced at Merry's pronunciation. "Saying Skyrim is easier, but it is England from where I come from." He repeated England a few times to make sure Merry could say it. Every time Strider mispronounced England Harry felt like he was teaching a particularly stubborn person, or talking to Victor Krum.

"What's England like?" Merry tucked into the soufflé or equivalent.

"Some of it is cities, other parts are a lot like this, but since there are no hobbits, it is all human sized." Harry tentatively took a bite of the steaming dessert.

"No _Hobbits_?" Merry was completely shocked, unable to imagine a place without hobbits.

Harry shrugged and took another bite of the chocolate soufflé. "Sure, they are little people, smaller than average but not many and I mean really small." He savored the next piece of the dessert, the small dish already alarmingly empty.

"But… that's so weird." Merry spluttered.

Harry took his last bite of soufflé, sadly laying his fork down. "Yeah, I would imagine that to be weird, you've lived with lots of hobbits and little men around, in England it is the opposite."

Merry went back to eating his dessert; Harry eyed it enviously, longing for more chocolaty goodness.

Three soufflés later Harry couldn't eat another bite, his head started to whinge from the stuffy air of the pub and Harry dragged him self outside.

The last few days of October were turning very chilly, and the air was like ice water running down his throat. As always the stars were fantastic and Harry studied them. The stars held an interest for Harry, even though as an eleven year old he wasn't too enthused about watching them half the night he was always interested in their names and patterns.

He saw three bright stars, in a line like Orion's Belt the rest of the stars weren't so easy to read. But there was one extremely bright one, slightly reddish and it was larger than the other stars.

"Mars." Harry said. "You will be Mars, and you're bright tonight aren't you?"

Going back inside he refused to think about the bleeding centaurs and their bloody stargazing, as Hagrid once said_, "Not interested in anything closer than the moon."_

#

'_Time flys when walking the Shire',_ Harry said to himself.

They were in Bywater by the next night, he and Merry were chuffed but happy, and the next day they would be in Hobbiton and enjoying the views from Bag End.

Merry was exhausted, his littler legs working twice as hard to keep up with Harry but he enjoyed the work out, maybe he had broken a record, Brandybuck Hall to Bag End in two and bit days.

That night a warm change had swept over Bywater and Harry lay in springy grass his eyes closed listening to the flies and mosquitoes buzzing about his head. It was a cloudy night, and the lanterns hanging on the trees and the corners of the houses cast a soft glow on the paths.

"Harry?" Merry said.

"Ngrrh…"Harry waved a fly from his nose. "Yeah?"

Merry shifted even though Harry still had his eyes closed. "I've been thinking about your magic problem, and I was wondering, what do you feel like when drunk?"

Harry opened his eyes fractionally. "That's a different question then I thought you were gonna ask." Harry rolled his wrist, cracking it. "I don't really remember what I'm like when drunk." He rolled the other wrist.

Merry sat down next to him saying. "In the Hall you where very open and laughing and comfortable. When you awake you are on edge, and maybe your magic is on edge as well." Harry yawned.

"So? Once I become comfortable with living here my magic will be easy?" Harry sat up.

Merry shrugged. "Could do, but being more comfortable and used to living here might help."

Harry stretched his arms behind his back. "Time, you think time will help."

Merry stood up. "Time usually helps with most things." He said.

#

Frodo was delighted to see Merry and Harry, begging Harry to tell stories of his home.

"Not much to tell," Harry had said. "There are lots of people, lots of magic, wars, that type of stuff, nice people, nasty people and people in between."

"Oh please harry, just a quick story or a song." Frodo begged wide eyed.

'_My oh my, how wide those eyes can go.' _Harry thought. _'Mrs. Weasley would be all over him in a heartbeat.'_

"I don't think my style of music would really appeal to you guys." Harry said, dodging singing a song.

'_I am not singing Greensleeves, or Queen'_.

"I'll tell you about a famous wizard though." He bargained. He told them about Albus Dumbledore, and his many titles and middle names.

"…Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, professor, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Grand Sorcerer." Harry listed." Lots of names and titles for one man..." How he held the most powerful wand in existence,

"The Elder Wand, a Deathly Hallow, gifts from Death to three mortals whom escaped him."

And could make himself invisible without a word. "Freaked me out in first year." The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry respected and feared by those around him.

"But you only needed to be afraid if he was angry, and he always read your mind, knew what to say, when I lost my godfather he said that it was his fault, and I didn't realize it then but I needed him to say that, shift the blame off me, and was an idiot back then." Harry told his riveted audience, he noticed the darkness outside and how low the candles where getting. "Well, well look at the time." He said clapping his hands. "I'm a bit tired do you think some tea and then bed?"

Merry and Frodo reluctantly agreed, Harry busied himself retrieving the Sword from the guitar case. "How long was I in there?" The Sword hissed. "I couldn't see or hear a damn thing, the most boring time of my life."

"Hush, I want to show you around Bag End." Harry said quietly. "Just be patient, admire the walls or something."

Clucking The Sword looked around, exclaiming that the walls were round. Harry carried him into the kitchen where Frodo was taking the water off the boil. Merry spotted The Sword first.

"I never saw that while walking, wow is it gold?" The Sword was still and Harry laid him on the centre of the table.

"Only in colour." Harry shrugged. Frodo was a bit more wary of the sword on the table.

"Why did you want to show it to us?" Frodo said sensibly. "I imagine it is rather sharp."

Harry nodded. "Very sharp and I just wanted The Sword to meet some new people." He ignored the looks that Frodo and Merry gave him, and instead focused on their expressions when The Sword talked.

"What a nice thing to do, I take back all the nasty things I said." The Sword chirped shocking Frodo and Merry out of their seats. "How do you do and how do you do." He said to each hobbit in turn.

Frodo recovered quicker. "You're as bad as Bilbo." He accused Harry addressing The Sword he said sociably. "I've just had bit of a shock but I am quite fine, thank you."

"A bit." Merry whispered. "A lot of a shock me thinks, I might need something stronger than tea."

"Nonsense." Frodo pushed a cup into his hands. "We just have another guest, a bit unexpected and different but still a guest, can I get you anything." The last portion of the sentence was directed at The Sword whom shook his head and said cheerfully.

"No, no, but if have a nice rack I could rest in."

"Sorry, we don't have weapons of you're sort around here." Frodo sat near The Swords head. "And I think standing you up with the poker's wont do at all."

"That's alright. Harry." The Sword called. "Stand me up before you sleep would you."

"What if you fall?" Harry sipped the unsweetened tea before grimacing.

The Sword tutted. "I would never fall, I am smarter than that and only badly placed or imbalanced swords fall."

"What about clumsy ones?" Merry said. The Sword hotly replied that swords were never clumsy, Merry and The Sword debated for a few minutes before Frodo bade them to bed.

"But we've only just begun." The Sword protested.

Harry was set up by the fireplace in the front of the house. The coals were still giving off heat as Frodo supplied him with a few pillows.

"I don't have any blankets." Frodo said apologetically. "Of your size."

Harry waved his apologies and produced a sleeping bag from the case.

"My motto, after being caught short camping in Skyrim, is '_Be prepared_'." He explained setting out the bedding.

Later when he was lying down, trying to sleep he hummed a tune, singing in his head.

'_Boogie down like a __unicorn__  
No stoppin' till the break of dawn  
Put your hands up in the air  
Like an __ogre__, who just don't care'_

Frowning he thought about the lyrics. _'Ginny and her weird Weird Sister's obsession.'_

#

The next day was peaceful like it always was in the Shire. Harry, Merry and Frodo sat outside in the bright sunshine, joined at times by the gardener, Sam something or other. Harry felt pleasantly lazy and plucked at the guitar strings.

The tuning mist rose in a pleasant purple before vanishing like smoke, strumming the guitar in the different chords played a different colour and if playing a recognized song the mist played out scenes.

Once when Harry was learning to play a face, resembling Cornelius Fudge but with a sterner more bulbous face, shimmered in the mist, the head shook itself in a violent no and drifted back into the guitar. Even the Phoenix, that rarely moved, was shaking its head at him.

"Oh I'm doing my best." Harry snapped, the Phoenix refused to move for him, and gave him a stink eye whenever it could get away with it.

Currently the Phoenix had spread its wings, the span of then taking up the face of guitar body, seeming to enjoy the sun. Harry strummed the instrument, plucking the tune to Pink Floyd's 'Wish you Were Here', a classic that Hermione begged him to learn.

"What are you playing?" Merry said, putting down his book.

Harry fumbled the note, causing an ugly, gluggy, Polyjuice Potion looking mist to rise. "A guitar."

"A what?" Merry rolled on his back to watch clouds.

Harry started another song. "A guitar, musical instrument."

"Okay."

A few seconds of silence ensured then Frodo sighed. "We have been doing nothing." He stated plainly. "I must show you a bit more of the Shire, Harry." Getting to his feet he said cheerfully. "Come on, get up Merry."

#

A few days later, Harry was back in Bree, the weather had turned nasty when he almost back to Bree. The last day of travelling was a heavy downpour. The road turned to mud beneath his feet, the thick rain was blinding and once or twice Harry got struck in a deep patch of mud.

Mud stained and bedraggled, the Sword long ago had demanded to be put in the case, insisting that in the constant shower it would rust. Harry thought it was a load of tosh, if The Sword could talk, why wouldn't its maker Anti-Rust it?

Harry the Gateman let in the weary traveler, not hiding his sympathy for 'poor Harry'. Trudging up the slippery stone streets, which had been trekked with mud, his dragonscale boots had never felt heavier. It was late was the door to the Pony was locked, pounding heavily on the door for a few minute until Nob poked his head out from the stables.

"What's that racket…- Mister Harry." Nob exclaimed. "You look a sight."

Slipping and sliding over to him Harry said. "Thanks, you couldn't let me in?"

Nob beckoned him. "Sure, this way, the back door is almost always open, no one know it's there anyway."

Harry stomped inside and Barliman still up doing innkeeper-y things behind the counter. "Hello mister… Harry is that you?" Barliman looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Yeah, can I just go up?"Harry just wanted a nice long nap, and a hot bath, soft pillows and a greasy bacon and egg breakfast, with fresh bed.

Barliman somehow paled further. "No, no Mister Potter I'm sorry, I rented your room out."

Harry groaned. "Really, I was warned about your memory. I'm gone for a week and you forget that I'm living in that room."

Barliman shook his head and nodded in turn. "I am terribly sorry Mister Potter, I wonder what Gandalf will do to me, if he finds out." He moaned.

"Nothing if he doesn't hear about this, do you have another room?" Harry tried to think if he left anything in the old room.

Barliman shook his head after checking the log book. "No, every regular sized room is taken. How about a wee' hobbit one? Just for a little while of course."

Harry growled out a 'fine', irritated with his homeless state stalking behind Barliman as he showed him his room on the ground floor. It was similar to the room upstairs, but bigger with littler furniture. Harry felt a little bit like he was in dolls house.

"A bath in the morning Mister Potter?" Barliman asked considerately.

"Sure." Harry said shortly. "And big greasy breakfast." Before Barliman could leave Harry stopped him. "Hey help me with the furniture." He directed Barliman to help him lift the beds a put them next to each other.

Barliman stopped just inside the door. "Do you need anything, and I'm so sorry."

"No," Harry started unlacing his muddy boots. "But I see why the postman quit."

#

Going to leave it there. Next chapter things will get moving a bit more, time, time for Harry's magic to get used to Middle Earth, HP magic is more fantasy magic, in this story.

Meaning lots of willpower and imagination and activity, but the Middle-Earth magic is slower, powerful, deliberate, and works less on imagination and more on facts. Like the rock in the previous chapter, Gandalf broke the bonds between atoms holding it together knowingly, Gandalf doesn't know what atoms are but his magic tells him that there are bonds holding it together, all he did was snip them.

Harry Potter magic is where if you have the talent you can wave your wand, say the right words and still destroy the rock like Gandalf did, but the witch or wizard wouldn't need to know about the bonds between atoms.

This is my theory why Hermione is such a good witch, she knows what goes on in the science of magic and is able to apply that. But saying that purebloods or magically raised families are unlikely to have had Hermione's upbringing, therefore the part of willpower and imagination come in. Imagine the rock turning to dust, there it goes, turning to dust.

Please feel free the review, and please make suggestions, and criticisms, constructive please, and the more the better. I bet you guys see the flaws better than I do.


	4. Moving Forward

Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings crossover

Disclaimer-

Although not really needed 'cause if one looks at the quality of my writing to Tolkien or Rowling it doesn't really match up. I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. If I did, would I be writing this?

Please remember that this is a book movie mish mash, in the book Frodo has the ring for seventeen years before the big stuff happens, in this it is going to be much, much shorter.

Italics are Harry's thoughts or songs/poems/riddles.

**Chapter Four**

**Moving Forward.**

* * *

**-Three Months in Middle-Earth.-**

"Harry." Barliman said. "You have to start paying for staying here."

They stood at the stairs that lead up to the living quarters of the Prancing Pony, Harry had gotten his old room back and Strider had buggered off a week ago. Harry looked quizzically at Barliman.

"I don't have any money." Harry said.

Barliman spread his empty hands in a peaceful manner. "Look Harry I don't want to turn you out, but you cost money to keep." He said matter-of-factly.

Harry thought for a minute. "Could I work?"

"Yes I would think so, that is how you get money." Barliman shifted as he thought about jobs around town. "The farms always need a hand, but in the middle of winter you'll be hard pressed to find work... you could be the postman again, people usually pay quite well for that service."

"But there isn't that many letters going around and I'd be insane to go out in that weather." Harry argued.

December in Bree was a constant rainstorm, letting up only for a few days at a time, the streets constant slush and people chilled by the icy torrential rain. Harry and the whole of Bree's townspeople couldn't wait for spring to arrive.

"Yes, yes you're right about that, so what to do?" Barliman asked rhetorically.

Harry slouched for a second, then a brainwave hit him. "Do you have any work?" he asked excitedly. "I'll work for you in exchange for the room."

Barliman thought over Harry's hasty proposal. "Aye, I can think of a few odd jobs around here."

"Fantastic, now, I'll start in the morning." Harry started up the stairs.

Barliman called after him. "Yes, yes, early be prepared for hard work."

'_How hard can it be?' _Harry thought to himself. _'If it's housekeeping Aunt Petunia invented the concept.'_

#

Harry rolled into bed, his fingers numb and shoulders aching. _'All those pails of water and how many dishes can people use?'_

The modern conveniences of Number Four Privet Drive was the ones he took for granted, ready water, hot and cold from the tap, dishwasher, gas cooking, clothes machine, dryer, bandaids.

Oh how he missed bandaids, forgetting to pack some in his case when camping was coming back to bite him in the rear end or in the form of his poor spliced, shrivelled fingers from washing the patrons mugs and plates and cutting himself on the wickedly sharp kitchen knives.

His shoulder ached from hauling the buckets of water from the outside well, thankfully covered. But on the plus side the cook was very happy to have a hand in the kitchen, Harry was the potato and onion peeler between fetching the water.

Harry rubbed his sore eyes again. _'I'm out of practice.' _He thought. _'Haven't peeled onions in ages.'_

#

**-Four months in Middle-Earth-**

"And this is good for burns." Strider held up a five-leafed clover looking plant. "But be careful there is a similar looking plant that is poisonous."

Harry and Strider was romping around the woods near Bree, Harry had no idea where he was but all the herbal info Strider was prattling on about was interesting.

"Just gives you some nasty indigestion but won't kill in small amounts." Strider continued, crouching down to dig up another plant. The familiar smell of onions hit Harry as he squatted beside Strider.

"No need to tell me that one." Harry eyes smarted a little as he talked. "Onion, wild onion."

Strider held up the bulb, a pick-reddish and white slender thing, with what looks like a blade of grass, very thick and green at the top. "What do you know about wild onions Harry?" Strider asked. Every few plants he would pop a question in about it, Harry was waiting for Strider to turn around and say 'pop quiz' and demand the list of plants he had already shown.

"It's edible?" Harry ventured shrugging, Arlandra in Skyrim tried to get him into alchemy but he failed at potions at Hogwarts and was dismal at alchemy.

Strider held back a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, raw or cooked, the juice is good to wash a wound with, it repels insects in large amounts." He sniffed the root. "But if it doesn't smell like an onion don't eat it, or else you will die." He threw the wild onion away.

Harry nodded shocked. _'Top ten things I didn't know. I bet Neville would though.'_

Strider continued unawares of Harry's internal monologue. He picked a pair of leaves off another bush, it was woody and tangled within itself and the leaves were an arrowhead shape, but with ripples. "These are Sorrel." Strider bit a leaf and passed the other to Harry.

Biting into it Harry choked and spluttered, the strong sour taste harsh on his tongue, ignoring Harry's struggle with the plant Strider continued talking. "Sorrel, most boil in once or twice to reduce flavour, it can help with vomiting, to treat fevers and slow bleeding." Strider finished his leaf silently.

Harry swallowed the lemony plant and rasped. "The but? Where is the but?"

"But," Strider picked another. "It can give you the... runs" He said delicately. "Which will dehydrate you, and it large amounts weaken your strength, over time though."

Harry rolled his watering eyes, the only good plant with no bad side effects seemed to be _Athelas _Striders wonderdrug.

"_It grows everywhere and can treat a variety of illnesses."_ Strider had said, stowing a large bunch of it in his satchel when they had only taken a few steps into the forest.

#

**Six months in Middle-Earth**

A sharp rap on the door woke Harry from his light midday monday nap, Barliman had agreed to give him two days off, sunday and monday. He sleepily cracked his eyes open, half expecting Strider to be letting himself in. "Who is it?" He called, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

From the other side the muffled but unmistakable voice of Gandalf said. "Gandalf, Mister Potter."

Harry was opening the door before Gandalf had finished speaking. Sure enough the old wizard stood there with his hat perched on his head and eyebrows as bushy as they were six months ago, behind him stood Strider, the tall ranger had an ominous expression on his face.

"Come in, but he could have just let you in, I've gotten used to it." Harry opened the door wider to let Gandalf shuffle past. Strider shrugged and pointed down the hall.

"Couldn't break in, they are a few people wandering about." He said easily, comfortably sweeping past Harry into the room. Harry shut the door muttering under his breath.

"Not to worry, the door wasn't locked." Gandalf had sat down in the armchair that had been moved into that room when Harry was ill, settling in its soft cushions.

Gandalf bade Harry to come over. "Close and lock the door Harry, sit down, make yourself comfortable, I have much to tell."

Strider sat in the only other chair, a hard plain wooden chair, leaving Harry to sit cross legged on the bed. The Sword was standing up at the edge of the bed, still as a stone but eagerly listening.

"How have you adjusted?" Gandalf lit his pipe and asked unexpectedly.

Harry shifted in his seat. "Fine, gets a boring around here, can't wait to get home." He hinted, not all that subtle.

Gandalf puffed his pipe and Harry forced himself not to frown when Strider 'lit up' so to speak.

'_Should I put a no smoking sign up?' Strider knows I don't like him smoking in here.' _Harry grumbled internally waving away the smoke.

"I'm sure you are eager to return home, but that is not I am here to discuss." Gandalf felt a lot like an affable grandfather, instead of being the powerful wizard he actually was. "Have been to see Frodo?"

"Yes, over the past months I've been going down to the Shire." Harry said. "Why? And why can't the conversation be about getting me home?" He stared into Gandalfs blue eyes, wishing he could read the thoughts of the wily old man.

"Because your home is not important right now." Gandalf snapped, suddenly the kindly paternal image was gone, replaced by an aura of power, shifting like a stormy sea. Yet as quickly as it came the feeling of power passed and Gandalf settled into the grandfatherly role again. "Harry, tell me, how is Frodo?"

Harry, wondering what in Merlin's name was going on with Gandalf, replied. "He's well, he's been avoiding Lobelia." Harry had a few run ins with undesirable Sackville-Bagginses woman, the pointy end of her umbrella stuck firmly in his face at one point. "Being a hobbit I suppose. He's eating well-"

"Food and Lobelia is all well and good but how does he feel Harry?" Gandalf interrupted. "How does he feel to you, is he well?"

"How so?" Harry avoided the question, knowing full well that Gandalf was asking after Frodo's mental state, but before Gandalf could make a sentence Harry said. "Last time I was at Frodo's he had been jumped by Lobelia, she was harping on and Frodo, by the look on his face, just wanted to get away from her."

Harry remembered walking up to Bag End, the shrill ear piercing voice wafting down from the entryway of Bag End, demanding to know where Bilbo had gone.

#(flashback- one month ago)

"When will he be back?" Lobelia stomped her little foot childishly.

"Bilbo is gone." Frodo explained tiredly rubbing his nose, his youth vanished with Lobelia around. "He is not coming back.'

Lobelia did not have a pleasant expression on her face. "I don't believe you. He must be coming back, I will be back Frodo,just wait." She stormed out of the house and past Harry whom she gave the stink eye to but didn't say a word. Harry cautiously knocked on the wide open door, it seemed to him that Frodo looked like he just had a terrific telling-off.

The hobbit had purple bruises under his eyes, his eyelids drooped and his posture was slumped and defeated. Frodo was looking after Lobelia an expression of weary distaste etched on his fine features.

Harry also watched Lobelia storm down into Little Hobbiton, others giving her a wide berth like she was an angry dragon. _'Or an upset Hermione.' _Harry thought, The Sword wrapped in rags, hiding every part of it's golden sheen except for its head whispered. "What an unpleasant person."

Harry nodded in agreement, then looked at Frodo. He hadn't moved from the spot Lobelia left him in, looking a bit lost and very run-down. Harry went up to Frodo's front door, careful to not cross the threshold and said. "Hello Frodo, may I come in?"

Frodo woke from his daze and said quietly. "Yes, come in Harry." Harry stepped over the doorway closing the green door behind him. Frodo stirred and politely asked him if he was hungry, walking into the kitchen to boil some water.

"No thanks." Harry said. "But if you're having a cup of tea..." He trailed off. Frodo moved in a frightfully despondent way, acknowledging Harry with slight turns of his head, putting the kettle over the fire in a slow careful manner.

Harry sat down at the table waiting for Frodo to say something, anything. When Frodo didn't talked Harry sucked in a deep breath. "What's wrong?" He said softly.

Frodo appeared to not hear him, turning his back and then lifting the kettle up to the table, pouring the boiling water into the teapot the smell of chamomile tea wafted in the silent kitchen. Harry tried to talk to Frodo again. "What did Lobelia want?" He said between sips.

Frodo held his teacup at his mouth, sipping ponderously. "She wanted Uncle Bilbo." He sighed. "She doesn't believe that he is gone forever."

"Yeah?" Harry didn't believe that Lobelia was the only thing troubling Frodo. "Is that all?"

"Yes." Frodo said shortly. They sat there sipping their tea quietly, Harry admired the homely kitchen . "Bilbo is not coming back, and I know that." Frodo said unexpectedly.

Harry nodded even though Frodo was not looking at him. "And so does Lobelia?" He asked.

Frodo looked out of the little window a pie sat underneath it. "Yes, she's just causing trouble." Frodo set his tea cup down and hugged himself. "It's just so lonely without him here." He confessed. "I knew he was going but I wasn't prepared for him being gone"

Frodo pulled on a sting that had come loose on his shirt not looking at Harry. "My parents drowned when I was young and Uncle Bilbo raised me, he is the closest thing I have-" Frodo stopped short sighing heavily.

"To family?" Harry finished his sentence. "I get that." He said, remembering the bittersweet memories of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Dumbledore, all three of them died and all three of them Harry cared for, they were family, in different ways.

Sirius a big brother, Remus an uncle and Dumbledore, his mad, clever grandfather.

Frodo looked at Harry, seeing the big person lost in a memory he just sipped his tea, the fruity chamomile warming his chest. Harry drew himself from the memory.

"I lost my parents too Frodo." He offered as comfort. "When I was young, I was raised by my aunt's family, they hated me come to think of it maybe I reminded Petunia of Lily, my mother, we have the same eyes everyone says." His looks and green eyes had everyone saying how much he looked like his father but had his mother's eyes. He had heard it a thousand times and yikes was it repetitive.

Frodo smiled wanly. "You do have nice eyes." He said. "People say I'm my mother's son, that I don't look anything like my father."

"Well." Harry said imperiously. "I think you look very nice the way you are." He nodded the matter closed. "Now are you up for a walk, you were going to show me the Hill or something." Harry stood up pulling Frodo with him. "I'll tell you something about England while we walk."

# (Flashback Ends)

"He was a bit depressed but cheered right up after our walk." Harry finished his narrative. "That was last month."

Gandalf had listened intently puffing his pipe, once more he begun. "I have made a some progress, I have found the location of a source of information but I cannot catch him and from what you've said I am now even more sure the ring is something to worry about." He blew out a long stream of smoke thinking about his travels. "Frodo would not be so affected by Lobelia even with Bilbo's absence. Something is not right."

"I have been to Rivendell to speak with Lord Elrond and pursue his library, but there was no lore pertaining to how the ring can be identified, so I will go to Gondor and then to Orthanc to speak to the head of my order." Gandalf paused to blow a smoke ring.

"Strider, I require some assistance in catching the slippery fellow and another matter I will explain later." Gandalf addressed Strider now looking to the almost forgotten ranger.

Harry felt alarmed, the only person he really knew was being asked away keeping his composure Harry asked. "When are you leaving, I'm planning to see Frodo in a few days."

Strider nodded to Gandalf and the elder answered. "I think I shall come with you to see Frodo, to check up on him, Bilbo has been wondering how he is-"

"Bilbo? Really how is he? Frodo would love to know." The Sword said moving his head to look at Gandalf more directly. Gandalf was surprised but didn't let it show as he leaned forward to examine The Sword.

"I have seen many things, but a talking sword." Gandalf muttered. "That will stick with me forever." The Sword wiggled the best it could under Gandalf's gaze, the old wise face reflected in his obsidian eyes.

"Sword meet Gandalf, Gandalf meet The Sword." Harry murmured under his breath

Harry pinched his nose closing his eyes, he didn't know how much time had passed but his legs needed a stretch. Standing up he walked over to the window. In the street below was a party of explorers, squatting in a rough circle pointing at place on a map. Spring came in a beautiful breath of warm clean air and with it a truckload of explorers and merchants.

When Harry visited the market he taken aback, fresh produce, jewels that only the prosperous could think of buying, cloth and dyes wrapped up in a loud package of vendors shouting out their wares.

The obvious prosperity of Bree was shocking compared to the tiresome battle of shopping in Skyrim. But as in any world thieves would dance in and out of the shoppers spending not a few seconds beside each person, lifting a few coins each.

Last time a thief tried to get Harry's coin purse in the Bree market was also the first time. He had the thief by his ear and shook him down, silver jewelry and copper coins rattled in his coat and Harry helped himself to some of the coins before handing the thief into the sherrif.

He saw the thief the next day but wasn't bothered again.

Turning back to Gandalf and Strider, Harry said. "It's all dandy isn't it but you haven't really told me anything, like names or your suspicions."

Gandalf smiled mysteriously. "You're right Harry." Gandalf said hushedly. "I suspect that Bilbo's magic ring is actually a ring of power, but I don't know how to tell that it is, so I will leave for Gondor after we have visited Frodo together."

Harry huffed. "Fantastic, what's a ring of power then?"

Strider spoke up from his dark corner. "Rings of power Harry were forged long ago by the elves and Sauron, together they forged twenty, nine for men-"

"Doomed to die." Harry cut in. "Frodo told me a little about a rhyme." He recited it;

"_Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die"_

"But." Harry continued. "That is only nineteen and you just said there was twenty."

Strider snuffed out his pipe before saying. "Frodo doesn't know the rest of the poem, it goes like this."

"_Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_One for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie,_

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all and the darkness bind them,_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."_

Nobody spoke, the poem repeating itself in Harry's head, the bits about the One Ring sounded awfully familiar, something Hermione had said once maybe.

"That sounds evil, but if you took away the last line it would flow better." Harry commented blandly, the name Sauron sounded bad the One Ring sounded bad the whole staying in Middle-Earth had begun to sound really bad.

Strider and Gandalf ignored Harry who was muttering under his breath about 'really bad'. They talked between themselves, Gandalf telling Strider about Gollum hiding under the mountains.

As they talked Harry had an epiphany, _'That's it! Frodo might have the One Ring, which is bad news and_ _Gandalf thinks he does, shit, shit, that sounds like really bad news. But he's not sure so he's not going to act, but with my luck it probably is the Ring.'_

Harry sat down on the bed again and rudely interrupted Gandalf and Strider. "You think Frodo has the One Ring." He didn't ask just wanting confirmation of his suspicions. Gandalf nodded again.

Harry fell back onto the bed saying. "Shit."

Strider laughed darkly. "My sentiments exactly."

#

Harry and Gandalf set off together towards Buckland, Gandalf on his horse and Harry walking beside him, the cool morning air and pale light was a peaceful idyllic time. The Sword was slung over his back, curiously looking at the farms and workers but was soon asking Gandalf riddles to pass the time.

"_What gets wetter and wetter the more it dries?" _

The Sword sang smugly thinking that it had finally asked Gandalf the one he couldn't answer.

"A towel." Gandalf answered promptly.

"_The more you take, the more you leave behind, what are they?"_

The Sword hemmed and hawed, Harry thought it over looking down at his feet. "That's a dirty trick Gandalf, since he cannot." Harry exclaimed figuring it out.

The Sword huffed. "I don't know, Harry what is it?" It said sulkily.

"Footsteps." Harry said. "Lemme think ah-"

"_No sooner spoken than it is broken?"_

The Sword shouted out before Gandalf could. "Silence, silence. My turn." Thinking for a moment the Sword then riddled.

"_What comes once in a minute, _

_twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?" _

Harry shook his head after he tried figuring it out. "Gandalf?" he asked.

Gandalf answered ponderously. "It's not the letter 'm' is it?" thoughtfully lighting his pipe in the saddle.

The Sword make an unpleasant sound and hissed. "Yes."

Harry flicked the Sword's beak. "Don't be a sore loser, Gandalf a riddle please." Harry was rather enjoying the game, after his encounter with the Sphinx and after he recovered from Cedric's death he quizzed everyone on riddles but had forgotten a lot.

Gandalf hummed.

"_What belongs to you but everyone else uses it more?"_

"Easy, my name." Harry remembered that one from Remus, shocking how simple it was in the end. "How about this one;"

"_First think of a person that lives in disguise,_

_That deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of the middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard_

_During the search of a hard to find word._

_Now string them together, and answer me this,_

_which creature would you be most unwilling to kiss? _

The Sword pondered this long riddle, asking Harry to repeat himself several times. Gandalf was quietly puzzling it together as The Sword talked his answer.

"A person that lives in disguise? A ranger. Deals in secrets and tells naught but lies, a ranger?" The Sword paused Harry was about to speak but it hurriedly continued.

"The last thing to mend? What's with that? Middle of the middle, end of the end easy that's 'd' so... ranger, d and the last part say it for me again."

Harry willingly said the last four lines again the sword hemmed. "Um... well that is a bit cryptic, um... I... um well... are... um...is it 'um' a sound 'um'"

The Sword sounded over joyed and Harry held back his snicker, not even close. The Sword prattled on. "Ranger, d, um... d,um, ranger. Dum ranger?... Strider you're talking about Strider, I know it." The Sword shouted triumphantly. "My go-

"Nope." Harry laughed. "Not Strider." He slapped his knees, wheezing. "Not Strider, but to be honest." Harry said after his laughter died down."I wouldn't want to kiss him anyway."

Gandalf smiled at the two, Harry overcome by laughter had to stop. Gandalf thought over the riddle, the answer crawled into his head and he waited for Harry to catch up.

"It's not that funny." The Sword snarled embarrassed.

Harry ran up to Gandalf snickering. "Yes it is." He wiped away the tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes. "Gandalf do you know?"

Impassively Gandalf answered. "Yes, a spider I believe."

Harry gave him the thumbs up. The Sword shouted. "No way, that is cheating how was I supposed to know it was a spider, what is spider anyway?"

Harry winced The Sword was literally shouting into his ears. "Shush I'm going to deaf." Harry rubbed his poor abused ears. "And I would have taken, 'spyder' if you mashed it all together, you don't need to know what a spider even is to get it."

The Sword clicked it's beak irritably. "Still not fair." It said obstinately.

"If you want to go on about fairness shout at Gandalf, his one about footsteps and you can't walk. Unfair if I'm any judge." Harry grumbled. "On second thought don't shout, my ears are ringing."

Pushing backing hair that fallen on his face Harry suddenly realised how long it had grown in the past six months. _'I so need a haircut.'_

#

"Gandalf." Frodo delightedly called when he saw Harry and Gandalf trot up the road. "How wonderful see to you." He pulled another hobbit away from the garden. By the look of their muddy clothes the two had been gardening. Frodo tugged the other hobbit along to greet the two big folk. "Harry meet Sam." Frodo positioned Sam in front of Harry

The other hobbit blond, overweight and shy bravely stuck out his hand after he brushed off as much dirt as he could. Harry took the child sized hand introducing himself. "Harry Potter, just call me Harry."

#

**Twelve Months in Middle-Earth**

Harry huffed, he spent most of his off days either in his room at the Pony or wandering the forest beside Bree. He lay in the clearing where he and Strider trained a year ago. He was utterly bored and determined not to think about home. About yorkshire pudding, or christmas feasts at Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley and how she couldn't help but mother every lost soul.

Harry rolled over there was a gap in the trees and sunlight glared down into his eyes. Shutting them Harry tried to relax, he slowed his breathing, and one by one, using a technique Arlandra had taught him, he focussed on relaxing each muscle. Unbidden he thought, _'It's also a great way to learn anatomy.'_

Banishing the thought he let his mind drift, not staying on any one subject, he felt a tug at his magic. Letting himself be pulled he felt like he was in steam peacefully lapping at his feet, wading deeper uncaringly he was caught by a raging river. It swept him up, he lost purchase on the smooth stones beneath his feet, the river tugged him along violently slamming him against rocks.

Holding onto a rock he pulled away from the strong roaring current, words that made him shiver thundered in his ears making them bleed, he cried out fearfully and the river clawed at him, sucked at him, tried to pull him into a vortex that would drown him.

In a final wrench he sat up. Opening his eyes saw was shocked by how the world had changed and how much hurt he felt.

It was dark now in the clearing and the sky above was full of twinkling stars, they shined down magically, smiling on everything they saw unburdened by Harry's or anyone else's troubles.

Harry was sweating profusely, shaking like he had just run from Surrey to London. Trembling Harry gathered himself, clumsily getting to his feet Harry stumbled to the edge of the forest. His legs feeling stronger with each step but his torso felt like he had actually been crashing into rocks.

Harry the gateman let him in talking casually like Harry the wizard hadn't been put through the ringer by a dream. Harry limped to the Prancing Pony, feeling worse each step. Breathing heavily, too exhausted to wonder why, he went around to the back door and let himself in.

Harry collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep instantly.

#

**Fourteen months in Middle-Earth**

He held The Sword in a guard position, then whipped it around as if to decapitate an invisible foe. Holding the pose he struck what would have passed as Strider's midriff in a lunge. Seconds later the Sword readjusted his pose saying in an authoritarian tone.

"That would kill Strider but he is tall, aim lower or you'll leave yourself open." The golden eagle head instructed stiffly still not forgiving Harry for leaving him in the forest alone after the river dream. Harry didn't fight when The Sword moved his arm for him, it was strange sensation when The Sword took control, it was like his arm was numb but he could still feel it yet not control it.

Harry stood in the readjusted position, the swung in a viscous leftwards parry then completed a series of movements that The Sword had been teaching him.

"Good, faster." The Sword said curtly. Harry didn't complain, for the first week The Sword refused to talk to him after he retrieved him from the forest, the silent treatment was awful much worse than the rudeness The Sword was currently employing.

Though the river dream happened two months ago, it had been two months since he left The Sword in the forest and Harry had apologised, several times.

Harry sighed, halfheartedly listening to The Swords instructions, wishing he knew how to get The Sword to forgive him. _'It's Ron in fourth year all over again.'_

#

"What do you mean you're not finished travelling yet?" Harry said aghast. Gandalf after nine long months had dropped into visit Harry as he made his way back to the Shire to visit Frodo. They stood in the stables, Gandalf in his weather worn grey cloak and tall pointed hat, Harry wearing a 'Queen' tee-shirt and faded jeans.

"Exactly what I mean Harry, I am off to see Frodo and then to check in with Strider." The elderly gentleman led his horse to an empty stall. "After a goods night rest." Gandalf said like it closed the matter and hastily stepped inside the Prancing Pony.

"That was short." The Sword commented from Harry's hip.

Harry chewed on the inside of his mouth. "Yes he was short."

#

**Eighteen Months in Middle Earth**

Harry was happily snoring, dreaming of peacocks and helicopters, then he was rudely kicked out of his nice warm bed. Rising like a vengeful demon he was ready to roar at the intruder but was stopped short. Strider, the tall dark ranger stood on the other side of the bed in all his muddy glory grinning like he was the cat whom had gotten the canary.

"I'm gonna murder you." Harry said without thinking. Strider's grin slipped a little he looked a little panicked to the visibly fuming British wizard. Harry smiled widely. "But I won't this time."

Strider shook his head, understanding Harry's humor was a whole different cup of tea.

#

**Twenty Months in Middle Earth**

"I need you to take this letter to Frodo at the earliest possible convenience Harry." Gandalf pushed a letter into his hand. The parchment was surprisingly heavy, but it was the same comforting colour as the Hogwarts letters. Harry took the letter without argument and waited patiently while Strider and Gandalf talked.

"Have you done what I asked?" Gandalf queried Strider.

Strider nodded. "Yes, there are patrols around the borders of the Shire, nothing that doesn't belong will get in without us knowing."

Gandalf huffed and said somberly. "I fear we may be too late, Osgiliath was taken briefly but I feel Sauron has concocted some mischief in that window of time. Black Riders, be careful." He hissed conspiratorially lowering his voice as a group of presumably adventurers and tradesmen passed close by.

Gandalf waved Harry into their little huddle. "I may not be back in time, so Harry..." He quietly instructed Harry to travel with Frodo when the time came and Strider was told to watch the roads for unsavoury characters. "... I will leave early, do not see me off, go about your business as normal." Gandalf looked more serious than ever before. "This conversation must not reach the ears of the enemy, nor any of the actions in the past two years. Understood?"

He stared sternly at both of them, Strider nodded once and Harry whistled through his teeth nodding also.

#

"Frodo? Frodo are you in there?" Harry knocked loudly on the round green door. "Frodo open up." After near running non stop from Bree, the urgency in Gandalfs voice pushing him to go faster, Harry was sweaty, stinky and short-tempered. "Open up damn it I need a bath!"

He waited impatiently for a few seconds, calming down slightly in the cool night air. Breathing deeply Harry tried to think past the haze of tiredness that had settled over him. _''Think, if Frodo was here he would've opened the door- so he isn't here.'' _

Harry shifted his weight from one trembling leg to the other. The adrenaline from racing to Bag End was wearing off, leaving a crushing fatigue that forced Harry to sit on the stone steps. "Wait..." Harry murmured exhausted. "Wait-here-for-Frodo." Each word was punctured by a yawn. Harry's eyes slid shut and soon he was drifting between sleep and consciousness.

...

...

...

...

"Harry? Harry wake up."

Harry startled awake, a little hand shook his shoulder, and Frodo's face hovered in front of his. They stared blankly at each other, the sleep deprived Potter yawned again trying to say as he yawned. "Wh-at t-im-e i-s it?"

Frodo yawned right back at him. "La-te why ar-e you he-re?" Both of them sounded like a mass gathering of of intelligible sounds but somehow they understood each other, the way only a pair of mutually tired men can.

Harry closed his eyes slurring. "Noo-t import-ant, tell you in-the morn-ing."

#

Tea warmed his throat and cleared away some of the fogginess that had gathered overnight in Harry's head. It was late morning in Frodo's kitchen both hobbit and man sleeping in, and Harry gulped boiling tea unwisely, burning his tongue but thoroughly waking himself up.

Frodo sat next to Harry sipping his own tea more sedately too tired to care about anything else bar the cup in his hands. The pair sat in the kitchen drinking their tea, Harry set his cup down first. He went to the sitting room and sat in the largest chair staring pointlessly into the hearth.

Frodo sat in the smaller chair across from Harry. "Why are you here?" Frodo asked.

Harry drew the letter from an inside pocket and passed it to Frodo silently, a gloom settled over the room as Frodo read the letter aloud;

"_Dear Frodo,_

_I am afraid I cannot meet with you, bad news has reached me and I must go at once. You better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of this year at the latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find you that you are gone. Leave a message for me if you pass through Bree, you can trust the landlord (Butterbur). Take Harry with you and you may meet a friend of mine on the road; a Man, lean, dark, tall by some called Strider. Harry knows him and Strider knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell, there I hope we can meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you._

_Yours in haste,_

_Gandalf._

_PS. Do NOT use it for any reason whatever. Do not travel by night._

_PPS. Make sure he is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the road nowadays. His true name is Aragon._

_All that is gold not glitter,_

_Not all those wander is lost,_

_The old that is strong does not wither, _

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost,_

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring,_

_Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,_

_Crownless again shall be king._

_PPPS. Harry is trustworthy and knows about 'it''. Take him with you, he will be invaluable, he is a wizard of a different sort but he has a powerful magic if I am any judge. Even so If he refuses I will roast him._

_Fare Well!_

Frodo glanced sharply at Harry when he had finished the letter then stared out the window. Harry looked outside as well, he noticed that the window was open. "Frodo, was the window open the whole time?" He asked slowly, rising silently and padding over to the window in a show of stealth Frodo had never seen from Harry before.

Frodo shook his head shocked at his carelessness, how his voice would carry out that window and down the road, who could have heard him? Harry leant his head out of the window, looking around for any suspicious characters. From where Frodo was sitting it looked like Harry was sticking his head into the lavender, then he suddenly drew back and dragged through the window a very surprised hobbit.

"Sam." Harry and Frodo cried in chorus both relieved and surprised. Immediately Sam started to stutter under their scrutiny.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop I was just pruning and you were so loud mister Frodo I really couldn't help myself." The poor hobbit looked ready to curl up and cry.

"Fair enough." Harry let Sam go. "But how long were you there, how much did you hear?"

Sam stood quivering as Harry shut the window and secured the latch. "Not much I heard the letter from Gandalf, that pretty poem and that you should go to Rivendell Frodo." Sam shyly looked at Harry. "And that you are a wizard mister Potter."

Harry looked at Frodo whom looked so flummoxed at the turn of events Harry took charge. "Righty, so nothing too important then." Harry said relieved.

"Now wait a minute." Sam said hotly. "Nothing important-" Sam finished with a squeak at the dark glare Harry pinned him with. "Sorry, please don't turn me into a toad." Sam said meekly.

Frodo frowned and said. "Harry will nothing of the sort." He looked at Harry so sternly Harry could have believed that the Baggins was channeling Gandalf. "And you are not in trouble Sam. You have though heard important things. Yes I shall leave the Shire." Frodo said stoutly. "And I will go to the elves, in secret though, because our cause is secret."

Harry nodded along and said. "What about Sam, he knows you're leaving." Frodo thought about what to do about Sam, and after a seconds he said.

"Well, Sam you must swear never to tell anyone I am leaving, and we will have to trust you." Sam smiled sadly and shook his head negative.

"I can swear all you like Frodo, but me and secrets, you know I can't help but tell them to my gaffer and then he tells everyone else." Sam explained. He had stopped shaking violently yet still shivered at random intervals, but not from fear, but from a sense of destiny that had settled on the three.

As Harry, Frodo and Sam thought The Sword, silent so far, leaning unnoticed by the fireplace said. "It's simple, Sam will have to come with us."

Harry was dubious about Sam travelling to this Rivendell but Frodo nodded at The Sword. "Yes, yes." He said. "We will leave in two months on the nineteenth of September, Sam, Harry and I. And we will make for Rivendell, we will go to the elves." Frodo said all this with a finality in his voice.

Sam said wonderstruck after a short pause. "I've always wanted to see elves mister Frodo."

* * *

We are moving forward now, no flashbacks, and the letter from Gandalf is a little different and the time is completely skewed. But having Harry in Middle Earth for seventeen years feels a little excessive. I wanted to put a bit of the book in explain a few things to Harry but get things rolling along.

Oh and to all my followers and favoriters and reviewers, thankyou so much.

I am sorry about my bad habit with defiantly and definitely I will be checking over all the chapters looking for them.


	5. First Steps (Part 1)

Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings crossover

Disclaimer-

Although not really needed because if one looks at the quality of my writing to Tolkien or Rowling it doesn't really match up. I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter.

Italics are Harry's thoughts or songs/poems/riddles and Skyrim's dragon language/shouts.

**Chapter 5**

**First Steps(Part 1)**

It was fine day in the Shire. At dawn Harry, Frodo and Sam set out from Bag End, slipping away without any fuss and without anyone knowing. Harry and Frodo travelled light, Sam on the other hand...

"Are you sure you don't want to let me put any of your stu- supplies into the case?" Harry asked Sam for the fifth time that morning. Sam had outfitted himself, carrying pots, pans, rolled up bedding, most of the food, rope, dry tinder, spare clothing, and who knows what else, into a big, clunking and clinking pack horse.

Sam politely declined again. "No need Harry, I can carry it, thank you anyway." Sam shifted his heavy pack into a more comfortable position and sped up, overtaking Frodo's lead. Harry, in two short paces, levelled with Frodo. They watched Sam march ahead of them, Harry with a thin veil of skepticism lingering on his mind.

Ever perceptive, Frodo said. "If you keep offering help Sam will take it as an insult. He'll see it as you don't think he is strong enough." Harry saw the sense in his words but huffed all the same.

"It's just that Sam doesn't have to carry it all." Harry's case had so many draws, so many so that Harry didn't have something for each draw, he could easily fit everything Sam was carrying and more, and with the featherlight charm on the case it wouldn't burden him.

"But he chooses to, he doesn't have to but he chooses to." Frodo said, touching the pocket over his heart. Harry looked away from Frodo, the Ring was in that pocket. Harry thought that the Ring was an awful lot like a horcrux. The last horcruxes Harry had dealt with was Lord Voldemorts and part of Voldemort's collection was a necklace. When Ron destroyed it, it tried to save itself, taking the Harry and Hermione's forms, dementing them and snarled lies, all in a bid to save itself. When it was worn by one of them it twisted them, made them short tempered and unduly harsh on each other. Harry hoped the Ring wasn't anything like the locket.

He shook his head, those days were years ago and nothing good comes from lingering on bad memories, as Mrs Weasley once said.

#

They sat around the small campfire, their first night of many nights, quietly chatting. Harry listened to the conversation with one ear and with the other listened for anything outside the firelight. A learned habit from traversing the dangerous wilds of Skyrim, often straying from the road in search for the bounty the Jarls had placed.

The had made good time, Harry thought, following Frodo and Sam whom were so sure of where they were going, and they were very quiet. Harry didn't think that Frodo and Sam could be so quiet but soon felt very ostentatious as the hobbits at times vanished from view.

The three had crossed the water, and Frodo said they would be in Tookland the next day. From the map that Harry got a glance at before they left Bag End, it looked like they would travel in a wide semicircle, staying away from the main road and also extending their trip.

"Shall we put out the fire or leave it burning?" Harry refocused on the hobbits next to him, asking them to repeat the question.

"Shall we put out the fire Mister Harry?" Sam asked politely, trying to stifle his yawns. Frodo was laying out his and Sam's bedding in underneath a large tree. Harry rubbed his eyes saying.

"Yeah, we should put it out, safety first, I'll take first watch." Harry opened the case and retrieved a soft and warm blanket. Food, twenty Septims, Horse, a thousand Septims, warm, big and soft blanket, priceless.

Sam looked blindsided by Harry's off hand mention of keeping watch. "Do you think keeping watch is necessary?" He asked. "We are only in the Shire."

Harry looked up at Sam. "Maybe not, but for peace of mind, and it will be good practise for when we are not in the Shire." He stood wrapping the blanket around himself, he took the still snoring sword and settled himself against the tree, kicking dirt onto the fire when he walked past.

"Wake me at midnight then." Sam said stoutly, kicking more dirt onto the fire, dousing it for good.

"And me at three in the morning." Frodo said unexpectedly. "It is nine now, wake Sam at midnight and me at three. We will make it an even amount of time and we will leave at six."

Harry nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a plan, now get to sleep." Harry lay the Sword across his lap and leaned against the tree.

An hour later and Harry hadn't moved his felt the Sword stir underneath his hands. He said quietly to the Sword. "You've been asleep all day, had me worried for a while."

Equally quiet the Sword replied. "I was tired, haven't slept in ages, are we on watch?"

"Yes, I had no idea you could sleep."

"I slept a lot in your case, had enough to keep myself awake for months."

Harry without moving his head looked at the Sword. "You can store sleep up?"

"Quiet, quiet." The Sword shushed. "Yes, like hibernation."

Harry shook his head. "I don't get it, you don't know what a spider is but you have no problem with 'hibernation'."

"Shut up." The Sword grumbled.

#

"Morning." Arlandra was crisp, shaking Harry gently by the shoulder to wake him up. Harry moaned and tried to cover his head with the soft and warm blankets of his rented bed. They ran into Riverwood the night before, after being chased out of Half-Moon Mill by a dragon. It attacked at midday, liquid fire bursting from its razor toothed maw, spewing its fire carelessly and coating the vulnerable wooden thatch houses.

It was so unexpected, so violent, so sudden that all Arlandra, Harry and Lydia could do was run with the rest of the terrified people. Harry looked curiously at Arlandra and croaked, his throat sore from all the yelling and all the smoke he breathed in yesterday. "What's going on?"

Arlandra was fully dressed in her elven chainmail armor, her bow ready, strung across her back and a fresh quiver of arrows.

"I'm going after that dragon." She said. "I've sent a guard to Whiterun to tell the Jarl of the dragon, and I am going to Falkreath to assist with the raid the Jarl will send." Arlandra said all that very matter of factly tossing Harry's leather cuirass onto the bed. "And by I, I mean us." Arlandra glided out of the room leaving Harry scrambling to dress himself.

Lydia was waiting by the horses, Allie, the black one from Whiterun, Frost, the horse Arlandra took through questionable means, and Harry's bay, Devon, short for Devonshire. A young boy running after his dog passed them as Lydia updated them on the current events.

"Faendal came back and reported when you were gone, he said nothing much, but it seems that the dragon is still at Half-Moon Mill and that all the game is being scared towards Whiterun." Lydia mounted Allie pausing as she looked around the tense village. "The runner you sent is nearing the base of the hill and will soon get to Whiterun, if he keeps running that is. Do you think two guards will be enough to protect Riverwood milady?"

Arlandra nudged Frost into walk towards the north gate. "Unless you want to stay behind Riverwood will have to protect itself." She said to Lydia. "The people here are fighters and the dragon will not get away from us to terrorise anywhere else."

Lydia dropped back saying stiffly. "As you say my Thane."

Harry could see a cloud of smoke above the trees. And the acrid smell of burning hair drifted to him. "Has it been burning all night?" He said softly.

"Yes." Arlandra suddenly kicked Frost into a gallop. She shouted back at them. "We must hurry."

Harry flicked the reins sharply and Devon followed Frost, Harry could hear Allie following them and the distant roar of the greeny brown scaled dragon echoed.

Harry's heart pounded, his palms sweated and knees shook. He was sore from the hard riding and his stomach twinged from the meager breakfast he managed to eat before they galloped to Falkreath. Jarl Siddgeir met with Arlandra and told them that the response was already underway.

"The bravest and dumbest of my men volunteered to take care of the dragon," He said callously lazily raising an eyebrow at the three of them. "And if you want to kill the beast be my guest. Make sure to drop by if you survive."

So Arlandra, Lydia and Harry galloped towards Half-Moon Mill, passing by Falkreath soldiers that had lost their nerve and were returning to the city. Leaving the horses beside the road, Harry, Lydia and Arlandra crept to the the mill.

The dragon had arrow shafts poking out from between its scales, black blood leaked from its tail where the tip was missing. The dragons wings were torn and bloody. Harry was hiding behind a tree, magic sparking underneath his fingertips. Lydia was calmly stringing her orcish bow, crouching behind an overturned wagon a few yards away. And Arlandra was sneaking around the decimated village to distract the dragon.

The smoke that Harry saw was Hert and Herns saw mill in flames, and their house was a smoldering wreck. Hert and Hern had ran into the forest the moment the dragon appeared. Another group, that had built their homes at the mill weren't so lucky.

Ashley Beorn and her son Jarrad Beorn lay broken on the path, burned and crushed groutesely. Determined not to look at them, Harry waited for the signal.

"_Fus!"_ Arlandra _shouted _and the dragon roared in fury and pain. Lydia stood up and gracefully fired her first arrow into the soft unscaled part of the dragon, behind the knee. Harry stepped out from behind the tree and his green tinged lighting spurted from his hands to shock the dragon.

The dragon was roaring and fire was erupting from its razor toothed maw, it was _shouting_ back. _"Dovahkiin, yol toor shul." _A fireball flew and exploded in a dazzling display. _"Zu'un unslaad, sahrot gein se ronaaz dir!" _The dragon beat its wings as Harrys lighting hit it.

The dragon shrieked, raising it's head and falling back down to earth with a thunderous crash. An elven arrow found its way into the dragons eye and it went silent. The _dovah _fell limp and it's scales began to shed, the skin of the dragon crinkled and burned like delicate rice paper, the mist rose, its soul rose, and was sucked in by Arlandra.

It was over. _"Hiu pahlok los hiu oblaan." _Arlandra said after the soul was completely absorbed. A small burn was raw and red on her face, and Lydia somehow was cut above her brow. Harry's hands were blistering and tingling with numbness.

"We will go to the Greybeards." Arlandra said once they had retrieved their horses. "I want answers about these dragons."

#

Harry woke with a start, his eyes adjusted to the pale morning light. He looked over to the current watch. Frodo was snoring quietly curled up in a uncomfortable ball. Harry smiled softly, and silently stood up. Stretching he followed his ears to a stream and washed his face to wake himself up properly.

That dream he had was memory, from three months in Skyrim, but what brought it on Harry couldn't tell. Harry rubbed his hands, partly from the ghostly stinging he felt when he thought about that day in Skyrim and partly to warm his hands from the chilled water.

When he returned to the hobbits neither were awake and Harry estimated that it was about five in the morning. Nudging Frodo awake with his foot Harry whispered as not to wake Sam. "You fell asleep, help me with breakfast Frodo."

Frodo rubbed his eyes, saying confusedly. "Who, what now? Harry, it's my watch isn't it?" Harry helped him up and directed him to get a fire going.

"It was." Harry said. "But you fell asleep, I reckon it's five-ish." Frodo looked up and commented.

"More like five-thirty." Looking down at the sticks in his hands he said quietly. "It's not that good that I fell asleep, is it."

Harry shrugged. "You're not the first to fall asleep on watch, nor you be the last." He said fairly. "Besides it is only the first night, you'll get used to it." Harry buckled on the Sword, it was asleep again, he flicked it on the beak to wake it up.

"Morning Sword." He ignored the Sword's grouchy demeanor at being woken in such a rude manner and picked up the waterskins. "Just going to fill these up." Harry left Frodo to wake Sam up. He had learnt very quickly from the time he spent in the Shire that Sam was not very charitable in the mornings.

#

It was bright and early and Frodo lead Harry out of Bag End and came across Samwise Gamgee. Whom was, ever so carefully, tending to his garden.

"Hello Sam." Frodo cried out joyfully, upon seeing his best friend. "How are you this fine morning?"

But alas, for Sam was in a stormy mood, and once Frodo saw Sam's dark expression he beat a hasty retreat. Dragging a confused Mr Harry Potter to a minimum safe distance. Now who else but Peregrin Took comes frolicking down the path. Innocently off to visit his friend and cousin Frodo.

"Lovely morning isn't Sam?" Pippin exclaimed when he saw the busy gardener, but Pippin failed to notice how Sam's hands slowed as he patted the soft soil, or how, as Sam hunched was over his flowers, that his back became tense and stiff.

Harry noticed these signs but it was Frodo whom tugged him back again a few feet towards the safety of behind a convenient tree. It was unfortunate that Harry's sheer size as a Man could not hide him as effectively as a Hobbit.

Pippin did not realise the the ticking time bomb that Samwise Gamgee was at that point of time. It was not anyones fault for Sams ill temper that morning,in fact it was a rather common thing for Sam to be irritable in the morning. It was just he usually kept a lid on it, so to speak.

"It would be a lovely morning Pippin,if you weren't standing on my flowers. The flowers I have been working on for the last month, getting up early to take care of it and my lovely silent, peaceful morning, has been ruined by your clumsy large feet stepping on my flowers and asking inane questions." Sam shouted loudly. He violently tugged at a stubborn weed and threw it at a retreating Pippin. "Just go away and leave the rest my morning in peace."

'_Sam does a very good impression of an angry Lydia.'_ Harry thought, Frodo silently pulled him away from the fuming hobbit. Once they were nearing the Green Dragon, the pub in Hobbiton, Harry cautiously asked Frodo. "What was all that about?"

Frodo gave a Harry a significant look and replied in a most serious manner. "Sam is not a morning person, neither is he a Pippin person."

Stifling a snort Harry made a vow to avoid Sam in the mornings.

#

It was dark in the forest, Harry walked behind Sam, Frodo in the lead, the sun was close to setting and it was almost too quiet. Listening to the light footsteps of the hobbits and his own heavier ones Harry couldn't hear the birds or the dim babble of the stream.

"It feels different here." The Sword said. "It's quieter, where are the birds?" The Sword was on his back, whispering quietly into his ear. "I think something is wrong Harry." Privately Harry agreed but he didn't want to think that they had run into trouble so early into their journey.

"We can't jump to conclusions, the sun is setting so the birds are likely to be in their nests, and it just seems quiet because it is, but I think we should find somewhere secluded to camp tonight." Harry replied, he jogged to catch up with Sam and repeated his concerns adding. "Do you know any caves around here or a place to we can hunker down tonight?"

"No Harry." Sam said. "I am not familiar with this part of the Shire."

Harry smiled tightly, his eyes searching for a place to rest. "Thanks Sam."

They camped quietly, in an private little glade hidden by large ferns, they didn't talk between themselves as the darkness deepened the feelings of unease only increased. A distant shriek reached them, and like he had been shocked with electricity Harry's hair stood on end, his heart began to beat faster and the urge to run and hide washed over him.

Nobody spoke as another answering shriek pierced the night.

#

Weary from the sleepless night they wandered from their path, deep into the woods. The trees were old and tall, the bark cracked with age. The roots twisted under their feet and moss grew on the trunks.

"We're lost." Harry said as they settled down to camp. "I might not know this neck of the woods but I can tell when we're going in circles." He tripped over the same root three times. "So which way do we need to go?" He squatted down beside the fire warming his hands, the Sword harruffed.

"Up." The Sword muttered. "So we can see how to get out of here."

Sam looked up the trunk of the tree they were camping under. "I doubt we can climb these trees." He said unhelpfully. "If only we could-"

A terrifying shriek pierced cut Sam off, the sound of hooves pounding on the forest floor was like dull thunder. A fell wind suddenly blew the campfire out, casting the camp into darkness. "That was not natural." Frodo murmured dazed, playing with the top pocket of his coat.

Harry was instantly alert, he loosened the Sword in it's sheath. "Stay close." He hissed. His heartbeat rose steadily, the hair on the back off his neck stood stiffly upright. Frodo and Sam scuttled behind him. Again there was shriek, closer this time, Frodo and Sam jumped in fright.

Harry slowly and quietly drew the Sword, listening to the rhythmic beat of the horseshoes waiting for the tell of what direction the rider was coming from. "When I say so, run." He whispered. He could hear the snorting of the horse, the hoofbeats broke twigs, the sharp snaps echoing from the left. Harry turned to face the sound, one hand grasping the Sword, the other jerking madly.

"Relax." The Sword hissed. "You're going to drop me." Harry glanced behind him. Frodo and Sam were pale and terrified, but thankfully silent. The bushes moved, Harry snapped to attention bringing his sword up ready to hack at the horses leg. _'What did Strider say about attacking horsemen again. Oh yeah "don't"."_

Thinly at first, but then stronger, Harry heard a song. For a moment he wasn't in the forest, about to be attacked but back in his loft apartment in London, just hanging out with his friends, warm, safe, unburdened, and then he was back in the dark forest not as tense the beautiful song filling his ears.

The hoofbeats faded,the next shriek sounded as if it was coming from further away. The inexplicable chill lifted, at the crescendo of the song Harry was warm and brave inside. It faded, leaving him sad but still elated. Waiting for a minute Harry stared into the dark intently. "I think we just got lucky" He said. "Are you two alright?" Harry lowered the Sword and turned around.

Sam and Frodo stood like a pair of lost ducks holding each others hand tightly. Pale, Frodo recovered first, his other hand slipping from his pocket. "A bit frightened but we're okay." He said bravely. "Should we move on?"

Harry turned back to face the place the bushes rustled. "I don't think the rider is going to come back tonight."

#

'_How is this corn taller than me?' _Harry pushed aside the tall corn plants, in search for Sam and Frodo. It was Sam's bright idea to cut across Farmer Maggot's field, in theory it was practical, but Harry didn't think that the farmer hadn't harvested his crops yet, or that the three would get separated in the middle of the field.

He heard dogs barking and shouting. "Frodo, Frodo?" It sounded like Sam, and Harry ran in the direction of the shouts. Bursting out onto a rough path in the corn he saw Sam, Frodo and strangely enough, Merry and Pippin. Merry and Pippin had their arms full of freshly picked vegetables, and Sam and Frodo were dusting themselves off.

"Harry, what a surprise!" Pippin exclaimed. They had only met once but the young hobbit had taken a shine to Harry the moment he saw him. "Why could you help me with this." Pippin dumped a pair of cabbages and a bunch of carrots into his arms.

Harry was about to say something but he was cut off the loud, and close, barks of dog and looking back he could see a scythe bobbing up and down above the corn. Before anyone could get a word out Frodo turned and ran, Sam followed him and Harry followed Sam.

Merry and Pippin scrambled after them shouting. "Hey, you've got our cabbages!" Then ducking as Harry threw said cabbages at them. Harry focused on not tripping over as he trampled the corn, laughing along with The Sword.

He didn't see Sam in front of him, but definitely felt him when they crashed into each other. "Whoa, sorry." Harry huffed, struggling to regain his balance. Holding onto Sam to keep them all standing Harry was shoved in the back, he pitched forward, Sam over weighted fell onto Frodo, Frodo's sure feet slipped and they all tumbled down the steep hill.

And tumbled...

From the feel of it Pippin had landed on Harry's back, dazed and confused Harry lifted his head, Sam was groaning in front of him, Frodo was already standing, Merry muttered. "I think I've broken something."

Looking at Merry, Harry sighed. "Why are you guys here?" As Merry pulled a broken carrot from underneath himself. Everyone ignored Harry as they righted themselves. Then Pippin said "Mushrooms." And Harry was unceremoniously trampled over in Pippin, Sam and Merry's haste to pick their favourite treat.

They had fallen onto a road, on the other side of the road was more forest, the trees sheltered the road from rain and sunshine, and brown leaves littered the ground, rustling as the wind blew. Harry stood up, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Frodo stood in the center of the road, looking down it. A mist had started to float at the end of the road, creeping ominously closer.

"Get off the road." Frodo said. Then shouted. "Get off the road, quick!" With some grumbling and a bit of hastiness the four hobbits hid under the root of a nearby tree and Harry ran deeper into the trees. Hiding behind a tree Harry risked a glimpse of the horseman that had been chasing them the past few days.

He noticed first that it had armored gauntlets, curled around the reins of the large black horse. The horse was demonic, a glimmer of red fire in its eyes and blood trickling down its legs, restlessly it snorted and huffed, pawing at the ground. Harry next saw the black fabric, not at all dissimilar to a Dementor's cloak. The rider looked around, and Harry saw that its hood hid whatever face it may have.

In the back of his mind Harry heard the soul and warmth sucking breaths, felt the freezing chill, remembered the screams of his parents dying, and of his friends dying, he stared transfixed at the dementor like creature. It took long searching sniffs, turning its head back and forth.

"Ow, fu-" Harry bit his lip, the creature's head snapped to where his hissed exclamation came from. Harry looked down at his hand, his thumb was bleeding from a deep cut, the Swords beak lightly smeared with his blood. "What was that for?" Harry whispered.

"Shut up, shut up." The Sword hissed back. The spell broken Harry pressed his back against the tree, listening to the sniffing of the black rider and snuffing of its horse. He glanced at the hobbits. The creature kneeled above them, sniffing deeply. Its hands were inches away from the hobbits faces.

Pippin was frightfully pale, Sam was still, Merry was quivering and Frodo seemed a bit out of it. He had the ring in his hand, his fingers playing with it, almost absent mindedly. Harry noticed that the creature was slowly drawing closer to Frodo, and with a deep certainty Harry knew it was after the Ring.

Crouching slowly Harry picked up a stone, about the size of a snitch and threw it, as hard as he could. It flew past the creatures hooded head and thudded dully on the ground, faster than was humanly possible it turned away to investigate the noise. Pippin, Frodo, Sam and Merry took their chance and darted from underneath the tree root, towards the protection of the trees and Harry.

Running behind the hobbits Harry heard the horse neigh, unnaturally deep, rumbling like a rockfall. He looked back, the horse was watching them, its rider beside it holding its reins.

#

It was now dark, the moon's pale light revealing the forest around them, Harry and the hobbits panted, resting against the trees. There was no other sounds aside from their harsh breathing, the Sword murmured to Harry. "We shouldn't stop, we don't know where it is."

Between heaving breaths Harry said. "What.. is the... use of run-ing if... we can't... breath."

Merry stood next to Frodo asking quietly. "What is that thing? What is it after?" Frodo just stared at Merry, pale and afraid, he said slowly. "I need to get to the of the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree."

Merry nodded already thinking of how to get there. "The Buckleberry Ferry will get us across the Brandywine we're close, follow me."

Merry started into the bushes, tiredly the rest followed. Harry drew level with Sam, who was still heavily panting. "Sam once we get to Buckland I want to put the non-essentials you're carrying in my case, you cannot carry everything Sam and run at the same time and I bet there will be more running." Sam nodded breathlessly. "Good." Harry clasped his hands, cracking his knuckles.

"That sounds awful Harry." Sam said shivering. "Sounds like breaking fingers."

"Habit of mine, started years ago-" A shrill shriek cut Harry off and the black horse and rider thundered between them and Frodo. "Run." Harry shouted. At the same time Merry yelled out. "Follow me." Merry ran out of sight but the crashing and snapping of branches under his feet were easy to follow.

Harry ran behind Sam frantically counting the hobbits in his head._ 'Sam, Merry, Pippin- where's Frodo!' _Turning around he saw Frodo running behind them, the horseman stuck behind the trees, unable to find a path through. It screeched again, chilling Harry's blood, and then there was an answering shriek.

Harry ran after the hobbits, Frodo on his heels, he vaulted the fence and near pulled Frodo over it. From somewhere nearby and to the left the sound of pounding hooves became louder and louder. The horse snorted and huffed, its rider silent. Frodo ran ahead and down a pier, the others were unhooking the raft from the jetty, setting it adrift. Harry didn't turn to look the Sword shouted something indecipherable, Frodo jumped.

Harry followed with a leap, almost pushing the others off the raft. The horseman stopped at the end of the pier, the horse rearing away from the water. It turned around, and galloped down the lane, four more followed it.

"Five." The Sword whispered. "There are five."

Harry looked across the water, absentmindedly watching the reflection of the moon play across the river. He listened with one ear to Merry telling them about the Brandywine Bridge the other for shrieks that would give away the position of the monsters.

"We must stay off the road," Harry said suddenly. "They will be patrolling it, is there any other way to Bree, Merry?" He looked at the blond hobbit, he rowed the raft slowly, merely nudging it to move faster.

"We could go around, but that would take a month at least, perhaps through the forest, those riders wouldn't dare enter it." Merry said slowly, thinking over his options.

Harry nixed the idea of taking the longer route mentally. "If we go through the old forest won't we have to traverse the Barrow Downs though? Everyone warns me away from them." He didn't like the look of the perpetually misty hills whenever he walked past them to go into the Shire

Merry nodded. "We would make good time though. If we don't get lost." The second part to the sentence was said under his breath but Harry didn't call him on it. '_If we don't get lost indeed.'_

"Frodo?" Harry asked. "What do you want to do?"

#

'_I hate this forest.' _Harry grouchily followed the over the top cheerful, singing, Tom Bombadil, with his silly blue coat and yellow boots. _'It was awfully lucky that he came along when he did.' _Merry, Pippin and himself were on the verge of being eaten by a tree. _'A freaking _tree_ tried to eat us.' _Harry shook out his arms sore from the crushing roots, the tree spoke to them, demanding for them to stop, to leave the forest. _"Whomping Willows asshole grandfather."_

Now Tom, their saviour, skipped and jumped ahead of them, picking random flowers by the river the hobbits told him was called the Withywindle, singing a mismatching rhyme to beckon them forward.

_Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle!_

_Tom's going on ahead candles for to kindle._

_Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping._

_When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,_

_Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow._

_Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!_

_Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you._

_Hey now! merry dol! We'll be waiting for you!_

Harry's personal favourite song was Peeves rhyme after they beat Voldemort for the final time. But the one he told everyone was his favorite was whatever the flavour of the week was, but always rock music. "He is cheerful?" The Sword said hesitantly to Harry. Harry huffed. "Cheerfully annoying, sure."

"Aren't you in a mood." The Sword snarked. "He isn't that bad."

"Really, saying that he isn't that bad-" Harry winced as a particularly high note got away from Tom. "Means he is that bad, but I'll give points for enthusiasm." Simon, a judge on Britain's got Talent, would probably send Tom away crying for his rendition of the Withywindle song.

"Harry you are too harsh, his deep notes are fantastic, a bit pitchy, but with work..." The Sword trailed off, Harry snickered. "Are you going to be his coach?"

"Sure," The Sword sniffed deeply. "I teach him using my fantastic tenor. Now listen Harry-" The Sword took an unnecessary breath.

"_Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red_

_Who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead_

_And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade_

_As he told of bold battles and gold he had made_

_But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red_

_When he met the shield-maiden Matilda, who said;_

_"Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead_

_Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"_

_And so then came clashing and slashing of steel_

_As the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal_

_And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more-_

_When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"_

The Sword trilled loudly, raising his voice to drown out Tom Bombadil. Harry faked a smile when Pippin turned around. The Sword was enthusiastic, but not very good. Taking Harry's silence as awe the Sword launched into the next song.

"_Our hero, our hero_

_Claims a warrior's heart_

_I tell you, I tell you-"_

"Look there, it must Mister Bombadil's house." Pippin cut across the 'Dragonborn Comes'. Much to Harry's secret relief. Pippin pointed at a house, built on the top of a small hill, Tom Bombadil had gone ahead, leaping up the path Frodo, Sam and Merry trailing behind. The house was little and homely, the windows were open, warm light glowing welcomely. _'Are we Hansel and Gretel wandering into the witches house?' _Harry thought sourly. _'This seems really convenient.' _He stood outside the cottage, suspicionstopping him from eagerly entering the warm house.

"What are waiting for?" The Sword hissed. "Warm bed dimwit, good food, nice sing-a-longs."

Harry hissed back. "Are you trying to convince me not to go in there, I hate sing-a-longs. What if he isn't nice anymore?"

"You're being paranoid." The Sword whined. "I'm cold and wet so let's go in."

"Paranoia saves lives." Harry snapped. "And stop whinging the nights will only get colder as we get further into winter, and can you even feel cold? You're a magical lump of metal."

The Sword sniffed. "Does it matter?" Its voice wounded. "I might be a glorified lump of metal but I do feel feel things, not all things, but I know when I rust and I know when I am wet, and if it is hot or cold." It said petulantly. "I don't expect you to understand, but can we go inside, I won't freeze, but you will."

Harry sighed. "Alright we'll go inside." He said, but still hesitated. Clearing his throat after a moment Harry said. "Sorry about that. You aren't just a glorified magical lump of metal. You're my glorified magical sword."

"Aww, aren't you sweet." The Sword teased. Harry ears felt a little flushed. "Seriously though no harm done."

"Good." Harry said gruffly. Looking around Harry marveled over how dark it had gotten over such a short period of time.

The Sword coughed. "Aren't we going in?"

Harry start forward as if he was jolted by electricity. "Yes, yes." And went inside the house.

#

Harry stood in Kings Cross Station, people walked past him without acknowledging his strange clothing, they were all wearing the same mundane colours, and seemed faceless when Harry looked at them. The station was loud with the coming and going of trains, trash fluttered on the floor. Harry walked through the throng of people, not touching them. The faceless people parted for him and went around as if he was just another part of the station.

He stood between platforms 9 and 10, looking at the brick portal. "Mum, Harry. Lets go." A young and familiar voice said. A little girl with bright orange hair ran through the portal, vanishing within a second. "Harry, dear." He turned, Mrs Weasley stood behind him, her hair was streaked with silver and grey, her face lined with crinkles around her eyes. "Ron is already through, hurry we're gonna be late."

"Yes." Harry glanced at the clock, ten to eleven. He looked at Mrs Weasley again. "You first." He said. She smiled huffily. "Alright but come straight after."

Mrs Weasley walked into the wall, and disappeared. Harry following, stopped to touch the wall, fascinated as when his hand rested on it, it rippled like water. Pressing his head against the wall he heard the whisper of a song, sung by an angels voice.

"_...Of sun, star, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,_

_Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,_

_wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,_

_Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water..."_

Following the voice Harry stepped through the brick and concrete wall. He found himself in a forest. Smelling of pine and smoke, there were voices coming from behind him, and the eager yelps of a playful dog. Arlandra sat on a rock, gently plucking at her lute, Lydia was wrestling with the dog, their wood elven guide setting up his tent. Harry stepped into the campsite and sat down next to Arlandra, watching her scarred hands play with the strings.

"Where did you get all those scars Arla'?" He murmured. Lightly touching the back of her hand. She drew her hand back sharply, as he traced a particularly faded scar. "Sorry." Harry said.

"No, no its alright." She said. She looked at Harry, then looked down at her hands. She offered her palms to him. Harry cradled her hands, and traced each puckered scar as she explained each one. "That was when I was twelve, cut myself on my grandmother, the statue of her... that one was when I was learning to fight. I thought was going to be a great twin wielder warrior, but I kept dropping the daggers." She said ruefully. "Then I switched to archery, under a old elf, she taught me to feel the bow, know where the arrow was going to land." Harry hummed, turning over her hands he brushed over the criss cross of scars that littered her long and fine fingers.

"What about these?" He whispered. He rested the tip of his finger over a clump of dense scars. "What happened here?" Arlandra rubbed the scars in question.

She smiled sadly. "Those scars were a lesson hard learned." She abruptly stood, the lute falling to the ground.

"What was the lesson?" Harry asked quietly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Trust and pride, that I should keep an eye on both." Arlandra called the dog, and said to the camp. "I am going hunting, stay out of trouble."

She walked into the forest, vanishing from sight. Harry stood up and followed her. "Where are you going Harry?" Pippin said. Startled he turned around. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, stood around the small campfire looking quizzically at him. They were camping underneath a giant tree, the roots gnarled and twisted, smattered with moss.

Harry smiled. "Nowhere." He stood into camp and sat down next to his case, flicking it open he retrieved his guitar. Playing with the strings he ignore his surroundings, plucking random tunes as they came to him.

He looked up and stood up. The campsite had disappeared, he was in his apartment in London. It was a nice place, the walls a warm cream and bathroom never running out of hot water. It was a magical apartment, larger on the inside than the building would suggest and it had a fireplace although a window was right above it. On the mantelpiece was magical odd bobs that Harry had found in various shops, a few pictures of his friends and family, and a plant that Neville had given him. Harry put the guitar on its stand beside the fireplace and unhooked the Sword from his back placing it on a sword rack that had never been there before. He went over to the window, instead of the sprawling city he was used to seeing it was the muddy and loud streets of Bree. There was a gentle knock on the door-

#

"Wouldn't be able to see a fish in a barrel in this fog." The Sword commented.

It was... well... foggy. It was like a really badly fogged up window, or put more poetically a deep fog with an essence of nastiness, a rolling sea of disputable intent, a veil between the next stretch of the road, a haze that made one feel alone and forgotten or an early morning on the moor outside the Misselthwaite Manor with Mary's sour temperament. But never mind the fog, we'll go with it was deep, there was a lot of it and Harry had another bad feeling that ever since he had met Gandalf had occurred with stunning regularity, sorry I've gotten carried away.

Harry replied to the Swords unexpected but accurate comment. "Nice metaphor, I was going to be more literal with, 'you can't see your hand in front of your face with all this fog' but yours works."

Harry looked around frowning. "Frodo! Sam! Merry! Pippen! Where are you?!" He shouted, it sounded muffled and deadened by the fog, but the muffled replies came to him from different directions.

"Harry I'm over here-"

"I've seemed to lost everyone mister Potter."

"Harry where are you?"

"-I lost Merry a few steps in-

"We know that-

"Nevermind where you are where am I?"

"-blimey its foggy-"

"-Pippin shut up."

"-fine I won't talk."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are we all lost?" He shouted in a random direction. He wasn't sure who but would bet on either Merry or Pippin who shouted back at him.

"Is that a trick question?"

Harry huffed as the Sword snickered. "Traitor." He muttered. "Okay." He shouted.

"What did he say?" Someone shouted

"Okay."

"Okay, why?"

"No I think he was just saying okay."

"Then why did he shout 'okay'."

"I was going to say that one of us should stay where we are and rest of us follow his voice." Harry yelled. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright sounds good."

"Wait a moment who are we walking to?"

"Good point."

The four hobbits shouted at the same time. Harry rolled his eyes. "To whomever shouts the loudest." He roared. Did he wish, or did he wish, Arlandra was here, with a quick _Lok Vah Koor, _the mist would be gone and Harry could drag the hobbits by their ears out to Bree.

"That would be you Harry, keep shouting." Someone said.

"No problem." Harry bellowed. "Shall I tell you about a woman that had a very gifted voice, magical you see, and with the right combination of words she could use her voice to Shout."

"We can all shout Harry."

"But not how she Shouted. She would say_ Lok Vah Koor, _and the mist and clouds would disappear. Extremely useful when trying to fumble our way through a marsh." Harry paused to take a breath. "I learned the words of a bunch of Shouts and when we went to the Greybeards I basically forced them to teach me."

"So I was right, anyone can shout."

"No, she is dragonborn, body of flesh and soul of a dragon, the shouts came naturally, as did speaking the _dovah-tinvaak_, dragon speech. Half the time she would talk _dovah-tinvaak_, and then we would get really confused, so I learned the words. And found that I was good with languages."

Harry mused on the parseltongue that he borrowed from Lord Voldemort, the easy understanding went away after the Dark Lord died but the gift didn't leave completely. He could still understand snakes, but only if they actually talked to him, before they could have a conversation between themselves and Harry couldn't help but listen in, so to speak, now the snake had to address him. Weird but it worked.

"Harry, you've stopped talking." A hobbit shouted. "And is anyone else there?"

The silence was ominous.

"If this is a joke it is a really bad one." Harry shouted. He waited for anyone to reply. "Hello, hello!"

Frodo suddenly appeared. "Oh Harry thank goodness, I didn't see anyone else." He clutched Harry's arm and was very pale. "Sam was with me but he went one way I must have followed a different path."

Harry gently shook Frodo off. "Don't worry we'll find them." He said soothingly. Frodo gave Harry a not so nice look, as if he was saying '_I'm not five'. _Harry looked back with raised eyebrows that clearly said _'Well you grabbed me first' ._

"So Harry can you Shout?" Frodo said. As they walked on, Frodo was holding Harry's arm so they would not get separated again.

"Huh?" Harry grunted as he bent over to untangle himself from a bunch of roots that had caught his boots.

Frodo waited for Harry to finish before repeating himself. "Can you Shout, like your Arlandra and those Greybeards that you said taught you to." Frodo gestured to the fog around them. "Can you Shout the fog away?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I did think about it, but to Shout you must take the Shout into your soul and personify it. The literal translation of _Lok Vah Koor_ is Sky, Spring, Summer." He shrugged again. "I'm not quite sure how to be the Sky, Spring and Summer."

"That is a pity." The Sword said. "I bet these Barrow-downs would be lovely if we could see them. But we can't so lets keep fumbling around shall we?"

"Yes, we will keep fumbling around and with any luck we will find the others." Harry stepped forward with an air of finality.

The path that they took snaked between rocks and hills, sometime a light wind would lift the fog and more of the path was revealed before them. At times they called out to the others hearing a faint shout in reply. As the day drew onward, one by one they party found each other, stumbling onto each other literally or just waiting at the side of the path. But now they were all together and the rising sun had lightened the fog so that they could see more than a stones throw, more than an arms length in any direction.

There was no trees in the Barrow-downs, there were roots that caught onto their clothing and soft damp grass that sloped gently into hills. The path was a rough animal track, but they had seen no creatures on their journey. Soon they group came to the top of a hill that was like a shallow saucer, and there was a standing stone in the middle of the little bowl of earth, taller than Harry and casting no shadow in the midday sun. The fog had all but cleared and they could see the dark green tops of the trees that lined the East-west Road or the Green Way, Harry couldn't remember but those trees were their destination.

Harry looked back to the forest, the dark trees seemed further away than he expected, but distances were hard judge when hidden in the fog. Merry and Frodo were talking excitedly to each other about how far that they had gotten as Sam and Pippin taking out some food from their packs.

"We've gotten a fair way but we're not finished yet Harry." The Sword said quietly. "Look east." And Harry did. The gentle slopes on the western side of the saucer hill were steep inclines in the east, still green and earthen mounds but dark standing stones stood on the very tallest of the those hills, like unaging guardians of the Barrow-downs, plain and weathered but unmoved and lofty. But somehow the stones gave Harry a feeling of disconcertion and he looked away quickly.

"Those stones don't look friendly." The Sword murmured. "They look a bit like teeth."

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "But they mark the way at least." He turned to the hobbits and dropped his case. "Lunch anyone?" As the hobbits crowded to unpack the food from his case Harry took the Sword from its sling on his back so Harry could lean comfortably on the stone. "Another thing, this stone is nice and cool." He said to the Sword.

"Aren't you Mr Brightside."

"Inside every pessimist is a depressed optimist." Harry rested his head on the stone.

After a while the Sword said. "We can't stay here."

Harry nodded and stretched his legs. "I know." He stood up yawning. "Blast it I'm so tired." He nudged Sam with his foot, whom had lain down and fallen asleep. "Come on Sam, we're only halfway there."

Sam mumbled a bit and Harry, not wanting to waste time, shook him by his shoulder. "Look I know a nap sounds nice but not in the middle of the day." Sam blinked blearily, giving Harry a forlorn look.

"I was going to have a good dream, I felt it." He said reproachfully. He looked around. "The others are asleep, why can't I have a nap." He yawned the word nap making it more like 'naaaa-p'.

Harry poked Pippin in the ribs, the youngest hobbit was ticklish, and said. "They won't be asleep for long, so help wake them up and pack our stuff." Pippin came awake with a furious splutter lost in a wheezing gasp of giggles.

"M'kay." Sam yawned again but obediently began gathering the leftover snacks that lay on the picnic blanket they had retrieved.

Harry and Pippin stood side by side. Pippin spoke with some determination. "Alright Harry, I'll wake Merry and you'll do Frodo."

Harry looked down at the sleeping cousins. "How are you going to wake Merry?"

"His hair, he'll be up in a flash if I play with his hair." Pippin leaned forward and barely ruffled Merry's hair before the Brandybuck was slapping his hand away. "Stop it Pippin."

Harry meanwhile had taken a feather quill from his pocket and was carefully tickling Frodo's nose. Much to his amusement Frodo was making small sniffing noises and was unconsciously trying to swat the bothersome thing away. "Stop it." He said, eyes opening suddenly. "I am awak-ACHOO." Frodo loudly and unexpectedly sneezed.

Merry rubbed his eyes. "Not so loud Frodo."

Frodo took a kerchief and blew his nose looking wretchedly at Harry. "What was that for?"

19


End file.
